


Slipping Into The Future

by peblezQ



Series: Slipping Through Time AU [5]
Category: 18th Century CE RPF, American Revolution RPF, Hamilton - Miranda, Hamilton - Miranda (Broadway Cast) RPF, Historical RPF
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alexander Hamilton Being an Asshole, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst, Blood and Violence, Canon Era, Chaos, Comedy, Confusion, Crack Treated Seriously, Dark Comedy, Drama, Emotional Roller Coaster, F/F, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, Founding Fathers, Gen, Historical Inaccuracy, I try my best to be as historically accurate as possible, Internal Conflict, Jealousy, M/M, Multi, No Smut, Original Broadway Cast, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Poor Alexander Hamilton has no idea what the hell is going on ever in this entire story, References to Depression, Science Fiction, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Swearing, There are so many damn characters that I will leave it like that, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, Time Travel Fix-It, Torture, Tragedy/Comedy, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:54:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 112,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26282251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peblezQ/pseuds/peblezQ
Summary: Alexander Hamilton time-travels from the year 1794 to the year 2016 and meets the man who wrote a musical about him; Lin-Manuel Miranda.~~~Alexander Hamilton plans to resign from his role as Secretary of the Treasury on December 1st, 1794. On December 2nd, Alexander Hamilton leaves his home on this stormy day to send a letter to Congress.Lin-Manuel Miranda plans to attend the 70th Annual Tony Awards at the end of next week in June of 2016.What could possibly go wrong?
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler, Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens, Alexander Hamilton/Maria Reynolds, Jasmine Cephas Jones/Anthony Ramos, Lin-Manuel Miranda/Vanessa Nadal
Series: Slipping Through Time AU [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2095767
Comments: 669
Kudos: 463
Collections: Hamilton Canon Era Fics (Ship ALL the Gay Ships!!!), hamilton~ john/alex or john/alex/eliza





	1. ACT I - Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before we begin, please read this quick disclaimer:
> 
> I do not in any way shape or form own Hamilton: An American Musical. As such, since this story contains real people as the starring characters - alive and deceased - this is a work of fiction and is not to be taken as reality. This story was written for my own personal benefit and for your enjoyment. I do not intend to cause any offence with my fanfiction.
> 
> Also, one last important note; even though I am a stickler for historical accuracy, I will be taking some creative liberties at times within this story (ie. The sci-fi premise itself is the first example of where I take creative liberties, lol. Hamilton himself will be greatly dramatized as well since it is extremely difficult to tell how he actually was as a person. People are complicated and everything was not very well documented back in the day…) This story is just for entertainment and is not at all meant to be taken as fact.
> 
> I also heard through the grapevine that Lin-Manuel Miranda has read Hamilton fanfiction. If he - by some miraculous chance - stumbles upon this: Hey, Lin! I'm so very, truly, sorry.
> 
> Thank you and enjoy! (:

> _To George Washington_
> 
> _Philadelphia December 1. 1794_
> 
> _Sir_
> 
> _I have the honor to inform you that I have fixed upon the last of January next as the day for the resignation of my office of Secretary of the Treasury. I make the communication now, that there may be time to mature such an arrangement as shall appear to you proper to meet the vacancy when it occurs._
> 
> _With perfect respect & the truest attachment. _
> 
> _I have the honor to be_
> 
> _Sir_
> 
> _Your very obedient servt._
> 
> _The President of The U.States_
> 
> _A.Hamilton_

* * *

Hamilton places the quill in its holder and grabs the powder, gently flaking it over the letter before lifting it and blowing gently to speed up the drying process. He places the parchment back down on his wooden desk and sighs, rubbing his forehead tiredly. He stares at his — possibly fifth or sixth — draft and blinks sluggishly. He rubs his eyes, cursing the shadows he is sure are prominent under his eyelids at the moment. 

Hamilton loathes admitting defeat, but alas, he must resign not only for his family's sake — but for his own sake. He has made irredeemable mistakes in the few years past that have surely haunted his mind and clouded his judgement. He must not repeat such errors, so the final resort of a resignation letter will have to do.

He can work in his law firm again, perhaps — or he could try something new. Regardless, he needs to escape parliament even though his heart rests in America's hands. He prays he has done enough service for his country.

Hamilton gazes at the candle which has shrunk quite a considerable amount; he must remember to retrieve more in the days to come. He carries it and cautiously tucks in his chair before exiting his office and retiring to his bedroom. He steps swiftly, avoiding the floorboards he knows will creak until approaching his marriage bed where his dearest Eliza is sound asleep.

Hamilton places the candle on the nightstand and slowly removes his coat, vest, stockings and breeches before carefully tucking himself into bed. He leans over to blow away the flame before turning over. He startles at the sight of his wife's dark eyes staring at him, her face illuminated by the bright moonlight shining through their window.

"My dear, you startled me," Hamilton exhales, holding his chest in hopes his heart will calm its incessant pounding.

"Alexander, have you only just come to bed now? At such an hour?" Eliza whispers to Hamilton with delicately furrowed brows. He sighs.

"I completed my final draft for my letter of resignation," Hamilton replies quietly. Eliza's lips curl up slightly and Hamilton would not have noticed had he not been gazing at her plump lips as he spoke. His eyes flicker up to hers and she blinks languidly, her smile growing evermore. "Soon I will be able to retire when you do, my dearest Betsey."

Eliza snorts, her eyes scrunching closed as she stifles her chuckling. Hamilton gives her a crooked grin, raising his eyebrow playfully. "What is so amusing, my dear?"

"No matter what place of work you reside in, Alexander, you will never retire when I do.” Eliza lightly shakes her head. “You really do write like you're running out of time."

Now it is Hamilton's turn to stifle a chuckle. He smiles endearingly at his wife and wraps an arm around her, pulling her close and nuzzling his head into her neck. He breathes in her scent and leaves a wet, languid kiss on the juncture between her jaw and neck which elicits an involuntary soft moan from her lips.

"Alexander. I'm tired…" Eliza hums, punctuating her statement with a gentle yawn. Alexander hums, his nose still buried against her neck. He drags his arm up her side, feeling gooseflesh upon her arms prickling against his fingertips. His hand stops at her neck and he pulls back to smile at Eliza as she returns it while closing her eyes, content within her husband's gentle touch. He peppers her with soft kisses across her forehead, nose, and cheek - causing her to giggle softly.

"Alexander…" Eliza moans quietly, dragging his name with her sigh before he captures it with a final kiss to her lips.

"Yes, my love?" Hamilton replies all too casually, the violet in his deep blue eyes barely outlining his blown pupils. 

"Don't you tease me now, Alexander," Eliza mumbles, grinning at her husband's playfully innocent smirk.

"Whatever do you mean, my dear?" Alexander replies, his voice much deeper now. He leans in for another kiss, but Eliza stops him with her index finger.

"I truly am exhausted, Alexander - and you must be as well. We must sleep," Eliza whispers.

"I am not tired," Hamilton whines as he buries his head against Eliza's shoulder. 

Eliza fondly rolls her eyes as she hears the beginnings of her husband's snoring; he is already drifting off. She strokes her fingers through his hair, untangling the ribbon and gently tossing it aside before continuing with her petting. Alexander nuzzles closer to her and she allows her eyes to droop closed until they both fall into a content sleep wrapped in each other’s arms.

* * *

Alexander awakes the next morning with a jolt. Before he can question why he was woken in such a startle, he sees a flash of lightning and hears a loud rumble crashing through the sky. _How strange,_ he silently wonders. _Thunderstorms are not typical weather for December._

He shivers as another flash of lightning followed by a loud rumbling erupts from the world outside of his home. He subconsciously clutches Eliza closer to himself.

“Mmm, Alexander?” Eliza mumbles sleepily.

He can feel his breathing become laboured as the wind carries the hail nearly sideways outside the window, slapping against the house noisily. Eliza quickly sits up when she realizes what is happening.

“Oh, my — Alexander, are you alright?” Eliza coos softly, squeezing him closer to her chest.

“I — I am quite alright. Tis…” he flinches as another flash of light and crashing of thunder follows soon after. “Tis the storm…”

“Shh, you’re quite alright, my love. I am right here with you…” Eliza soothes him, petting his hair to calm his nerves.

“Mama! Daddy!” A small voice screeches from the neighbouring room. Alexander swiftly pulls the blanket over his legs and swings himself off of the bed. He pulls up his breeches that he had discarded on the floor the night previous, and hurries out of the room; Eliza follows close behind.

They enter the bedroom of their three youngest sons and Alexander quickly scoops up James who is sobbing. Eliza tends to baby John who has woken up as well and is crying loudly.

“Daddy, the storm! It is so loud,” James cries out softly into Alexander’s shoulder. He rocks his six-year-old son gently, lifting his hand to run his fingers through his son's dark hair.

“Shh, tis alright, son. We are safe inside,” Alexander reassures him in a kind tone. “I am right here with you…” he whispers softly, mimicking Eliza’s soothing words to Alexander only moments earlier. When the lightning and thunder returns, James’ sobbing intensifies, and Alexander just holds him closer.

“I am _trying_ to sleep! Quiet, you baby!” Alexander Jr. whines from his bed, covering his head with his pillow.

“I am _not_ a baby!” James cries in retaliation. He shivers and clenches his fists even tighter in his father’s shirt when a branch from the tree slaps against the window.

Alexander Jr. snorts. “Ha — _baby_ ,” he teases in a tired sing-song tone.

“Now you hush, Alex,” Eliza scolds after she has quieted little John. “Tis early morn, but not too early to rise for the day.”

Alex Jr. groans as he rolls out of bed and trudges to his chest to scour for clean clothing to put on for the day. Alexander continues to sit with James until his crying softens into low hiccups. He wipes his son’s tears and smiles gently at him.

“Go get dressed with your brother. We shall have breakfast downstairs in an hour’s time,” Alexander says, gently nudging his son’s chin with a small smile. James flinches violently when another flash and crash rumbles from outdoors, but Alexander manages to suppress his own shivers for his son’s sake. “Be brave for me, son.”

James nods feebly. “Okay, daddy…”

Alexander smiles gently before scruffing his son’s hair playfully and standing up to follow Eliza out of the room. He pauses in the doorway to point a scolding finger at Alex Jr. “And you - no more teasing your brother.”

“Yes, pop,” Alex Jr. replies solemnly with his head down. Alexander gives both of his son’s one curt nod before entering the hallway. He stumbles as little ten-year-old Angelica bumps into him.

“Oh! Sorry, father!” Angelica yelps, straightening her skirts.

“Tis quite alright, Angie. Remember to pay attention to where you are walking, dearest,” Alexander replies with an earnest smile. He pats her head as he walks past her and enters his bedroom to find clean clothes and dress for the day.

By the time breakfast is served, the storm has calmed itself to a light drizzle. The Hamilton’s enjoy their meal provided by Eliza and Maggie, their paid servant. Maggie is a young twenty-year-old woman without a husband or children who mayhaps would have been left on the streets if the Hamilton's did not take her in. She reminded Alexander of himself when he was that age, shockingly — even though she is a woman. Perhaps it is the fact that she is poor and willing to work hard to make something of herself. He gravely understands how such a thing feels.

Alexander takes a languid sip of his coffee as he stares intently out the window. The water has frozen over, leaving a sheen of ice on everything outside. He places his mug down. “I must send my letter of resignation today — if I wish it to reach congress in a reasonable amount of time, that is,” Alexander says conversationally to Eliza. She leans over to feed John mushed fruits as she flickers her gaze towards Alexander with furrowed brows.

“In _this_ weather? I am sure you can wait for another day, Alexander.”

“I have already waited long enough, my dear,” Alexander replies as he stands up, audibly excusing himself from the table to encourage his children to learn polite table manners.

“Will you take long, pop?” Philip chimes in before taking a bite of his half-eaten apple.

Alexander smiles at Philip and ruffles his hair, causing the boy to indignantly shoo his father’s hand away with a hidden grin. “I will not take too long. I would rather not spend a minute longer than necessary out in this horrid weather. Behave for Maggie and your mother whilst I am away, children.”

“But daddy, it is not safe!” James squeaks out timidly. Alexander kneels beside his son and smiles at him.

“I will not be gone more than an hour’s time, son.” Alexander puts his hand on James’ shoulder. “Will you guard the house while I am gone?”

James nods enthusiastically and Alexander smiles, standing up straight and groaning as his knees crack. “Ugh, I am getting old!” The children all giggle at their father’s theatrics as he staggers around the table to lean over and kiss his wife’s cheek.

“Farewell, father!” Angie calls out as Alexander exits the dining room. He turns around to wave at his family one last time before entering his office to retrieve his letter, seal it, and put on his overcoat before leaving the house.

Hamilton carefully tucks the letter inside of his inner chest pocket — where he keeps his two most cherished miniature portraits — before he strolls through the barren streets of Philadelphia. He buries his hands in his outer-coat pockets; his breath is visible as he puffs out jaggedly, clenching his jaw to avoid chattering his teeth. He would be embarrassed to admit the number of times he has slipped and nearly fell on his rear, but alas, he makes it in record time for such inclement weather and sends his letter off to congress.

Hamilton’s thoughts wander as he returns home, slowing his strides immensely to avoid slipping as often. His shoulders hunch upwards as he shivers in the softly falling freezing rain. His overcoat is dampened, and he prays he does not catch a fever from delivering his resignation letter. He laughs softly to himself - the irony of Hamilton passing away from a fever that he had caught whilst quitting his job would surely be one for the jesters to enjoy in a dark-humorous manner.

In his moment of distraction, his foot slips farther than usual and he falls on his rear, shooting a sharp pain up his already sore back. Hamilton groans in frustration and lulls his head back, closing his eyes for a moment before attempting to sit up. When he opens his eyes, he is shocked to see the clouds above him. _Had he been staring at the ground the entire time whilst he was walking? How could he not notice the strange colourings of the clouds forming above him? He should have put his words of advice to Angie this morning into practice._

The skies are dark grey with bright blue lights flashing interchangeably within the clouds. The lightning veins are barely visible through the thick clouds above. What is even more peculiar is the lack of thunder after each flash. Hamilton stands up, staggering as he does so, and ignores the damp feeling on his behind as he shields his eyes to get a better look at the strange lightning above his head.

He scans across the street, but not a single soul is outside at this early-of-an-hour and in such dreadful weather. _Perhaps I should have listened to Betsey,_ Hamilton laments silently to himself.

Hamilton feels his stomach churn at the dark looming clouds seemingly approaching him, lighting up in a bright blue hue every few seconds or so. _Still no thunder._

Hamilton moves to turn around but finds himself sheepishly slipping again. He manages to keep his balance well enough to stay on his feet, but in his haste, he sees one final flash of blue and hears the roaring thunder ringing through his ears. He feels suddenly hot and then very, extremely cold.

And then, he feels absolutely numb. His vision is blacker than night, and all he can hear is a loud and shrill ringing in his ears before that, too, eventually cuts into a deafening silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, on that note… See y'all next week! ((EDIT: My job decided to schedule me for 8 consecutive days in a row so there is a chance that the update will take a bit longer than anticipated. It will be coming either Sunday or sometime early next week.))
> 
> Oh, also: Alexander Hamilton's letter of resignation at the beginning of the chapter is real. Here is where I found it: https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Hamilton/01-17-02-0392


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this during work yesterday and the day before. I edited it twice. I may come back later to adjust a few things. I like to tinker as I go. Never anything major - just grammatical and dictional corrections, really. (Can I turn the word "diction" into "dictional"? Well I just did and it's a thing now.)
> 
> Enjoy this chapter I wrote out of spite at work because they scheduled me 8 consecutive days in a row.

Lin-Manuel Miranda is a talented play-write — not a murderer. He keeps reminding himself of this as he pretends to listen to the utter chaos around him. For whatever reason, the sound system decided to fry on them and he was woken up and dragged into the theatre at five-thirty in the goddamned morning to help fix the situation. He plays the title character in this show and wrote it, but he is also a producer which means he has to be here when technical issues occur, unfortunately.

"I can't get it working!" Larry bemoans as he flips the switches and nothing happens. Lin sluggishly sips his coffee. _'I am a play-write — not a murderer…'_ Lin repeats this mantra in his head as he continues to sip his coffee at a snail's pace.

"What do you suggest we do, Lin?" Larry asks meekly. The man has never appeared so sheepish in the year that Lin has known him. He is clearly frazzled by this technical error. Lin's droopy eyes flicker to the soundboard and then onto the stage from the window in the sound room. He continues to hold the cup at his mouth to give himself more time to think — pretending to sip.

He pulls the paper cup away from his lips. "Have you tried turning the entire building's breakers off then on again?"

Everyone in the room stares blankly at him. Lin just goes to take another sip of his coffee, not breaking eye contact with Larry.

"Have you even been paying attention? That's not related to the issue!" Larry says exasperatingly. 

Lin just shrugs noncommittally. "I don't know how to fix this shit. I'm just here to make sure it gets fixed before our show tonight."

"God, you're useless!" Larry whines as he turns around to fiddle with the soundboard again. Lin smiles at him, knowing the man means well — he's just freaking out and definitely sleep deprived. They're all sleep-deprived. Lin takes another sip at that thought.

"Seriously though, have you actually tried that or are you just gonna ignore me?" Lin asks after a minute, his eyes beginning to glaze over from staring at Larry fiddle with the board like he is failing at the game Operation. Larry just huffs out an indignant sigh before bending over to check the wiring under the table. Lin shrugs again and paces to the other side of the room, taking a bigger sip now that his coffee is cooling down. 

* * *

“Hey, Lin. What do you think looks better? The blue or dark grey?" Jonathan asks innocently as he holds out his phone to show images of two different suit jackets.

Lin-Manuel Miranda is many things; a person who helps with fixing sound tech errors and aiding his friend with choosing something to wear are not on that list. He sighs, rubbing his forehead tiredly. It has been a very long day — hell, it's been a very long _week_ — and next Sunday they're all attending the 70th Annual Tony Awards ceremony; hence why his friend and dressing-roommate, Jonathan Groff, is asking for his opinion on a jacket. He feels like his head might actually explode any second with the tension gripping his sanity to a near snapping point.

"They both look so nice. I have no idea which one to pick — Lin, are you alright?" Jonathan puts his phone down when he realizes Lin looks pale and his jaw is tightly set.

"What?" Lin replies lazily, snapping out of his stressed daze as he realizes that his attention is required.

"Dude, when was the last time you slept?" Jonathan asks with a raised brow. His tone is light-hearted, but his features seem focused and concerned.

"Sleep is for the weak," Lin replies casually before turning around in his seat to get a good look at himself in the mirror. "And the grey one looks the best," he adds whilst tugging the elastic out of his hair; releasing the tight bun in hopes it will relieve the tension in his head. _He desperately wants to cut his damn hair._

Jonathan chuckles and nods. "Alright, I'll let my stylist know that I'm going with the grey one." There is a moment before Jonathan looks up and raises a curious brow. "Seriously, you look like you're gonna pass out. You sure you're alright?"

Lin sighs. "I'm just exhausted...and nervous...and stressed." Lin looks at his friend through the mirror and offers him a weak smile. "I'm sure I'll be fine once we're on stage."

"Well, just in case," Jonathan pulls out a bottle of Advil and tosses it to Lin. It bounces off of his head and makes him flinch with a scoff. "Oops," he says sheepishly as Lin glares at him through the reflection. "You look like you have a massive migraine."

"Well, I have one _now_ ," Lin replies as he bends over to pick up the bottle. "No thanks to you."

Jonathan dramatically grips his chest in mock pain. "You wound me. I was only trying to help."

"Yeah, yeah," Lin rolls his eyes with a fond grin appearing on his face. "And I thank you kindly for your concern, Groffsauce."

"We're on in twenty," the stage manager's voice drones over the intercom and Lin sighs exasperatedly. 

"Fuck. I can't do this," Lin groans in defeat as he folds his arms on the table and rests his head on them. 

"Hey, relax. You've got this. You might wanna start getting ready, though." Jonathan stands up off of their couch and strides towards the hallway. "I'll be back in a few. Gotta grab my costume."

Lin turns around at that and smiles at Jonathan like he is a sweet and innocent child. "Could you please grab mine for me as well, dearest?"

Jonathan pouts dramatically and rolls his eyes for added flair. He scoffs. "I suppose," he replies in his British accent. "But only because you asked _so_ nicely." He walks out of the room and Lin turns his attention to the mirror again. He pops an Advil in his mouth and swallows it before grabbing the comb. He might as well untangle his hair before their hairdresser shows up.

* * *

They all bow one last time before exiting the stage. Lin immediately feels the adrenaline from the show drain from him. He tiredly rubs his head once he is backstage.

"Are you okay, Lin? You've been awfully quiet all night," Phillipa says in a soothing voice. He smiles sweetly at her.

"I'm just tired. I can't wait to go home and get some fucking sleep," Lin replies with a sigh.

"Or he'll just stay up all night worrying himself over the Tony's again," Jonathan says with a smile and a quirked brow.

"Dude, you have to sleep," Anthony chimes in after swallowing a large gulp of his water.

"I promise I'll actually sleep tonight," Lin says with a faint smile. "Unless of course, I get another emergency call from the theatre at five in the morning again."

"Eugh, that was this morning?" Anthony replies with his face twisted with disgust. "Why does it feel like it was yesterday that you told me that?"

Lin grabs his phone from his pocket and turns it on to show Anthony the time. "Because it technically _was_ yesterday, now."

"Hey, Lin, I was wondering if we should pack up all of the backup mics for the Tony's?" Linda, the mic tech, asks as she approaches the group.

Lin tries to not groan as a painful spike of tension envelops his entire head. He closes his eyes and rubs his forehead. "Yeah, yeah. Do whatever," he replies before walking away, his eyes still closed and his hand still gripping his pounding head.

"Poor guy is stressed out of his mind," Anthony says sadly as he watches Lin trudge away. "I don't think I've seen him like this since our broadway premiere."

"I'll go talk to him," Jonathan says before walking off after Lin.

He finds Lin sitting down on the couch in their dressing room with his face buried in his hands.

"Hey, you alright? Maybe you should take tomorrow off? I think you deserve a break," Jonathan says as he sits beside Lin. He puts his hand on his tired friend's shoulder and Lin responds by silently lulling his head to rest on Jon's shoulder.

"I can't take a day off. Not at a time like this…" Lin mumbles.

"It's never a good time to take a break, but you've gotta do it eventually. I'm sure Javier won't mind covering for you tomorrow. He loves playing Hamilton," Jon replies while rubbing calming circles into Lin's back.

Lin just groans but says nothing. He looks up at Jon and deflates at his friend's frown. "I'll think about it," he finally relents with a sigh. Jon smiles, satisfied with that response and then stands up.

Daveed pops in their open door, knocking on the frame with a grin. "A few of us were thinking about getting pizza down the street. You two in?"

"No, thanks. I think I'm gonna eat at home tonight," Lin replies.

"I'll come!" Jon says brightly. Daveed smiles at him and nods.

"Cool, we’ll leave in ten." Daveed turns his attention to Lin. "Good night, Lin. Please get some actual fucking sleep tonight."

Lin chuckles. "Yeah, yeah. Alright, _mom_."

Daveed just winks at him before slipping out into the hallway again. "Hey, Ant!" Daveed's voice roars from down the hall only a few moments later. "Pizza in ten!?"

"Hell, yeah!" Anthony yells back louder, even though Lin is sure he is standing further away. Lin and Jon laugh, shaking their heads fondly as they begin changing out of their costumes.

* * *

Lin tucks his hands in his hoodie pocket and shuffles out of the theatre. He walks down the street towards the subway station that is nearly a block away. His eyes are trained on the sidewalk and he steps away from the cracks to mildly entertain himself. His headache seems to be dulled, but his body is slumped with exhaustion. 

He flickers his gaze up at the street and is surprised to see it nearly barren — save for maybe three other pedestrians on the opposite side of the road. When they turn into the alleyway, he is left by himself on the street.

This is rather uncommon for New York, even at two in the morning. The cast usually leaves this late to avoid the crowds from the audience and to review notes on their performance — and usually, there is still a small crowd bustling on the street. It's typically the people headed home from bars and other shows.

Lin stops in his tracks when he hears a loud rumble — like thunder. There aren't any clouds in the sky, and the weather app never mentioned any thunderstorms. He wonders silently to himself where the sound must have come from — then it happens again.

A bright blue light shines in the sky above him, causing him to jerk backwards in alarm. The light vanishes as soon as it has appeared, and a man drops from it. The man stumbles as if he is slipping on ice and he hits his head against the brick wall as he falls backwards. Lin blinks vacantly at the man now laying on the sidewalk.

Lin blinks again, harder this time to make sure he isn't losing his mind. He either desperately needs more sleep, or he just witnessed a man appear out of thin air with rolling thunder and a flashing blue light.

The man groans, rubbing the back of his head as he slowly sits up, his eyes closed tightly. His coat has a thin layer of melting snow on it, and the man's fingers are red and dry as if he had been out in cold winter weather.

Lin blinks again as he takes in the man's clothing properly. His overcoat is a deep violet and unbuttoned, revealing a silky violet coat buttoned up to mid-torso — a ruffled cravat tie poofing from under the silky jacket. His black pants only go as far as just below his knees, the lower half only white stockings with buckled black shoes.

The man's dark reddish-blonde hair is messily tied back into a low ponytail and his sleeve cuffs are as ruffled as his cravat-tie. He seems vaguely familiar but Lin can't quite place why. 

Then he opens his eyes. He watches the man's dark blue eyes slowly widen before crawling up Lin's body until their gazes interlock.

He gapes at Lin from the ground, his hand frozen on his head as he seems to look just as confused as Lin feels. He doesn't want to say it out loud, but he swears that this man looks like he is dressed for a Colonial-America convention. The only thing that stops him from assuming that is the logical reasoning for this man's attire is simply the fact that he has _quite literally appeared out of thin air in front of Lin's eyes._

The man takes a shuddering breath and opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Lin's heart pounds heavily in his chest.

"What the fuck?" Lin states matter-of-factly, unable to form any other coherent words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A gentle reminder of that artistic liberty note I mentioned in chapter 1. (Except the fact that Jonathan Groff was actually dressing roommates with Lin during the production of Hamilton in 2015 and 2016.) Idk the actual names of the crew members of Hamilton, but I felt they deserved names rather than just calling them only by their job title. That feels degrading, even for a background character.
> 
> Next chapter should be out next week (possibly earlier if I'm feeling spiteful at work again.) Thank you all who left comments, kudos, and have bookmarked this fic! It really means a lot to me! 😊👌


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was feeling spiteful at work again, lol. I have never updated a multi-chapter fic three times within a week. That is honestly a record for me (I'm just so excited to get to the fun parts where we see Lin + Hamilton shenanigans.)
> 
> Uh, ye. Hope y'all like it. I will apologize in advance for my poor writing skills when it comes to the replication of how Hamilton spoke & wrote. I really tried my best 😅 Just gonna swipe my artistic liberty card (you're gonna see me do that a lot throughout this fic.)
> 
> Anyway, enjoy the moment we have all been waiting for: the big meetup between our protagonists Lin-Manuel Miranda & Alexander Hamilton!

_"What the fuck?" The dark-haired man states matter-of-factly._

Hamilton blinks, taken aback. He lowers his hand to rest on the pavement. The smallest hint of a smirk tugs at his lips. "My thought, exactly."

"Who are you?" The man standing above him asks after a moment. 

"My name is Alexander Hamilton. Who are you?" Hamilton lifts up a curious brow.

The dark-haired man blinks slowly. "Uh, I'm Lin?" 

Hamilton tilts his head. "Is that a question or a statement?"

"I'm confused, where the hell did you come from?" The man who calls himself Lin asks, gesticulating wildly.

"I…" Hamilton deeply considers Lin's questions. "I was in Philadelphia. I was sending a letter and then I was walking home."

"Okay…" Lin says very slowly. "Are you, like, a fan of the show?"

Hamilton blinks vacantly. "I beg your pardon?"

Lin shakes his head, frazzled. "Shit, sorry! You've just been sitting on the ground and I haven't offered — let me help you up," he says quickly, offering a hand to Hamilton. He reluctantly takes it and pulls himself up. He brushes the bottom of his breeches and flinches uncomfortably when he feels the dampness from the mud he fell in moments before he ended up...here.

"I thank you, good sir. May I inquire where I am, exactly?" Hamilton asks.

"New York?" Lin shakes his head. "What the fuck just happened. Where did you come from?"

"Erm…" Hamilton frowns. "New York…? That cannot be...this place is not…" he trails off, his eyes properly scanning his environment now. A yellow carriage moving without any horses shrieks beside them, causing Hamilton to flinch as the man operating the strange contraption yells at the man in the blue contraption opposite to him. Hamilton's eyes widen as he sees a woman walking across the street, staring at a glowing object in her hand and wearing nothing but stockings and a cropped undershirt. "Dear God, am I in Hell?"

Lin watches him, seeing Hamilton shrivel up as he feels his heart pound with overwhelming anxiety coursing through his veins. "Hey, relax. Just breathe. You're not in Hell. It's just some people being assholes," Lin reassures with a gentle tone.

"Why is the sky black? Where are all those lights coming from? What is happening? _Where am I?"_ Hamilton feels himself begin to hyperventilate as his eyes flicker from one thing to the next. _Distracting. Why is everything so damn distracting?_

"You…" Lin pauses, catching Hamilton's attention. "You said your name was Alexander Hamilton? Like, the Treasury Secretary, Alexander Hamilton? Or are you just some dude who happens to have the same name and likes to wear colonial clothing?"

Hamilton sighs in slight relief, feeling like this conversation is _somewhat_ making more sense. "Yes, I am Alexander Hamilton, the Treasury Secretary."

Lin frowns. "Is this a joke? Am I being Punk'd? Does that show still even exist? Are they rebooting it?" Lin says quickly, shifting his head and eyes all over the place, in search of something.

"I beg your pardon?" Hamilton asks, gawking at Lin. He is repeating himself now, but what else can he say when absolutely _nothing_ is making any lick of sense. "Have I gone mad?" Hamilton asks himself under his breath. "I must have hit my head very hard. I've lost all sense. I've gone mad!"

Lin furrows his brows at Hamilton. "Hey, uh, just out of curiosity — what year do you think it is?"

Hamilton looks up at Lin, his face heating up with overwhelming embarrassment and confusion. "Seventeen-hundred and ninety-four."

"Oh," Lin says, his expression vacant. 

"Oh?" Hamilton mocks. "What do you mean by saying _'oh'_?"

"It's two-thousand-and-sixteen." Lin blinks slowly, opening his mouth and closing it dumbly. "You...you aren't fucking with me, are you? You really just popped in here from seventeen-ninety-four?"

Hamilton's eyes widen at their shared epiphany. "Either we have both gone mad or I have… I am…"

Lin pinches the bridge of his nose. "I don't wanna believe this, but you did literally just fall in front of me out of thin air with a flashing blue light."

"You saw the blue light as well?" Hamilton asks eagerly. "Did you also hear the—"

 _"—Thunder?"_ They both say this in unison. They gape silently at each other.

"What the fuck?"

Hamilton's lips tug into a slight grin. "What the fuck, indeed."

Lin bursts out laughing. He almost seems hysterical as he bends forward, gripping his stomach. "I can't believe Alexander Hamilton just swore in front of me!"

Hamilton lifts a curious brow. "You seem greatly amused. Or you've caught hysteria which frankly, I was not previously aware a man could catch such a thing."

Lin breathes out, evening out his laughter until he has calmed himself to stand straight again. "I might be fucking nuts right now but I'm just gonna go with it. Are you hungry?"

Hamilton looks at the strange world around him — that is apparently the future — and then nods without looking back at Lin, his eyes catching a new strange distraction every second. "I think I ought to stay close to you for now as I have no idea what the hell is happening in my general vicinity at the moment."

"God, you speak like a robot with a weird accent," Lin says with a bright grin. 

Hamilton pouts indignantly. "You are the one with the strange accent, sir."

"Hey, just call me Lin." He holds his hand out.

Hamilton stares at it for a moment before making eye contact with the man. He offers a crooked smile and shakes his hand. "Well, despite the circumstances, Lin, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Lin's smile grows even wider, somehow; nearly splitting his face in two. It would be off-putting to Hamilton if the man didn't have such boyish features. "Likewise, Mr. Hamilton."

* * *

"Order anything you'd like," Lin says as he picks up his menu in the place that Lin called a _'24-hour diner.'_ "It's on me."

Hamilton frowns at Lin as he picks up the menu. "I do not take handouts, sir."

"Lin. You don't need to keep calling me sir." Lin chuckles. "Besides, if you really are from the past, your money will be utterly useless since it's been a good two-hundred or so years since seventeen-ninety-four."

Hamilton's eyebrows furrow as he struggles to read the menu. "What on earth is a cheeseburger? And French fries?"

Lin hasn't even looked at his menu, smiling fondly at Hamilton. "Uh, it's kind of hard to explain. Like a sandwich? With beef and vegetables — and cheese, of course. French fries are sliced potatoes covered in salt. They're delicious."

Hamilton flickers his gaze at Lin before looking back at the menu. He feels too overwhelmed and rather embarrassed to even bother asking any other questions, so he puts it down and sighs. "I suppose I will give that a try."

Lin places his menu down as well, not even looking at it. "So...Hamilton — can I call you Hamilton?" Hamilton nods in response, working to keep his attention focused on Lin and not on anything else. "You, uh, I don't really have any proof that you are who you claim to be, so forgive me for asking, but how can I trust you?"

Hamilton frowns. "I could ask you the same thing."

Lin gestures vaguely to the rest of the diner. "Isn't this proof enough for you that you aren't in Kansas anymore?"

Hamilton blinks, his mouth clamped shut as he tilts his head. "I regret to admit that I do not understand what the hell you are saying to me half of the time."

Lin sits back, folds his arms over his chest. "Right, Kansas doesn't exist yet where you're from. Have you ever seen The Wizard Of Oz?"

Hamilton frowns at Lin. "Is this a question of my sanity? No, I have never seen any wizards in my life. I was not mad — up until I slipped into your strange world."

Lin chuckles lightly. "No, I meant the movie. Have you ever seen the movie?"

Hamilton sighs in frustration. "I do not understand what you are asking of me!" He rubs his head, visibly frazzled. "You are slipping in and out of proper English! I do not understand the meaning of most of your words!"

Lin leans forward, feeling guilty as he sees Hamilton's clear frustration. "Hey, it's okay. Do you know what film is?"

Hamilton just stares at Lin, his face now flushing as he feels more helpless by the second. He shakes his head in a jerking motion. Lin lifts his hands in a calming motion as if trying to console a startled creature. "Hey, it's alright. We can drop the subject and talk about something else." A moment passes and Lin's eyes light up. "Wait a minute, I have an idea."

Hamilton watches Lin shove his hands in his pocket before pulling out a small purse. He pulls out a light green piece of parchment paper and then flattens it out on the table. He holds it up beside Hamilton's baffled face and squints his eyes, flickering between the parchment and Hamilton. 

"Yeah, okay. I was wondering why you looked familiar. You definitely look like Alexander Hamilton on the ten-dollar bill." Lin puts the parchment down in front of Hamilton and he frowns at it. A green-tinted parchment reading 'ten-dollars' along the top with his own face drawn on it lays in front of him. He stares at it for a long time, in silent awe.

"Is this...your currency?" Hamilton asks softly after a moment.

"Yeah. Thanks to you, we have a pretty solid economy," Lin explains with an easy grin. Hamilton looks at him briefly before looking back at the futuristic currency with his face on it.

Hamilton feels a burst of pride. "I did enough…" he mutters to himself with a tiny smile.

"That drawing doesn't do you justice, though," Lin adds, leaning back and draping his arm over the back of his seat. "None of your paintings really do you justice. You are way more attractive in person."

Hamilton looks up at Lin, feeling his face heat up at the compliment. He glances around at the near-empty dining room, feeling a strong sense of worry.

The female servant returns to their table with a tired smile, startling Hamilton. "What can I get for you?"

"We'll have two cheeseburgers with fries, please." Lin hands her the menus.

"And to drink?"

"Your finest whiskey, please," Hamilton replies casually. Lin and the woman look at him with curious gazes.

"My friend's joking. We'll just have water," Lin says with a smile. The woman nods and retreats from their table with the menus.

"Hamilton, you can't just order whiskey at a diner," Lin says after the woman is out of sight.

"I do not know what a diner is. I assumed we were in a tavern. My mistake." Hamilton looks back at the currency with his face on it. Lin grabs it, putting it back in his pocket. Hamilton wishes to look at it longer and wonders if Lin is trying to keep his ego in check.

"Alright, so, do you have any ID on you?" Lin asks after a moment. After seeing Hamilton's face scrunch in confusion again, he elaborates. "Identification? Any papers that prove you are who you claim to be?"

Hamilton opens his mouth to respond but pauses when the woman places two glasses on the table. They contain the cleanest water he has ever laid eyes upon. She walks away and Hamilton stares in complete awe at the sight.

"This water is very clear," Hamilton says after a moment. He hesitantly picks it up and takes a sip, ignoring the yellow thing wedged on the top of the glass. He gasps in astonishment. "It tastes marvellous! I was mistaken, I must surely be in heaven!" Hamilton takes a greedy gulp of the clean water before placing the glass down and sighing with contempt.

"You've never had clean water before?" Lin asks carefully, looking dejected, and if Hamilton is not mistaken; guilty.

Hamilton shakes his head, still staring at the water. "It is impossible to come across water that is not even the slightest shade of brown clouded to the point of opaqueness. How did you acquire clean drinking water?"

"Uh, we use filters," Lin replies. He fidgets in his seat. "Okay, so if you are truly Hamilton, how do we figure out what brought you here? I mean, time travel isn't real. It's only something in movies—" Lin pauses. "Fantasies. Imagination." Lin corrects himself at the end, remembering that Hamilton has never heard of a movie. Hamilton silently wonders if Lin will ever explain what a movie is.

He looks into Lin's dark eyes, his lips tugging into a frown. He tucks his hand in his coat pocket and pulls out his identification papers. "I do have more proof if you still have any doubts." Hamilton hands Lin his papers, and Lin's eyes widen.

"Holy shit," Lin's eyes flicker across the page. "Okay, either you're really good at faking this shit or I'm an asshole for not believing you. I mean, I've never seen what identification papers looked like back then...but…"

"Is it custom for men to curse so often in the future?" Hamilton asks with a tilted head.

"Oh, sorry. Does it bother you?"

Hamilton allows a small smile to break through his stiff wall. "Honestly, it reminds me of my childhood. I do not mind it at all. I am just accustomed to not curse in public in such a manner." Hamilton lifts his glass of water to take another generous sip.

"Huh, well I mean it _is_ still considered impolite but I suppose fewer people have sticks up their asses nowadays." Hamilton chokes on his water, trying to not laugh at Lin's boldness. Lin offers a sly grin before wiping it from his face and furrowing his brows.

"My apologies." Hamilton puts the glass down after he has cleared his throat.

"No, no. You're fine...I just...I can't believe I'm sitting here with Alexander Hamilton at two-thirty in the morning in some random diner," Lin replies with a solemn shrug. "I hope I didn't get in an accident and I'm just unconscious in a hospital right now."

"What do I have to do to convince you that I am who I say I am?" Hamilton asks desperately.

Lin sits still for a moment, looking up at Hamilton without moving his head. "You could write something."

"Provide me with parchment, ink, and a quill, and I will write anything for you," Hamilton says urgently.

The woman returns with their food. Hamilton stares perplexedly at his meal. Lin looks up at the woman and smiles. "Thanks. Hey, do you have paper and a pen that we can borrow?"

"I'll check in the office," she replies with a smile. "Enjoy your meals," she adds before sauntering away.

Hamilton watches Lin pick up his food with his hands and take a large bite from it. He looks down at his own food and mirrors his movements. He takes a bite and his eyes widen with surprise. He swallows his food and stares at it with astonishment. "Why, this is delectable. So many flavours pouring upon mine tongue!" Hamilton takes another bite and Lin watches him with a raised eyebrow.

"So, I take it that you like your cheeseburger?" Lin asks amusedly before taking another bite. Hamilton nods vigorously as he chews his food.

"My Betsey would love this!" Hamilton comments off-handedly before taking another bite.

Lin pauses. "I'm sorry, did you say Betsey?"

Hamilton looks up at Lin and swallows his food before responding. "Yes, my wife Elizabeth."

Lin puts his food down. "Right, you called her Betsey in some of your letters to her...I almost forgot." Lin flickers his gaze back to Hamilton. "This is real. This is really happening. You're Alexander Hamilton."

Hamilton places his own food down as well. "Yes."

The woman returns promptly with the whitest sheet of parchment Hamilton has seen and a strange object that vaguely resembles a quill. "Here's that paper and pen you requested," she says with a chipper voice. "You're Lin-Manuel Miranda, right?"

Lin blushes. "Yeah. That's me."

"I'm sorry to bother you, but would you mind signing my Hamilton Playbill?" The woman requests with a hopeful smile. Lin nods and wipes his hands with the strange parchment-like cloth. She pulls out a pamphlet and hands it over to Lin. It's yellow with a black star in the centre with the silhouette of a man pointing a hand in the air to complete the tip of the star. It says Hamilton on it, and Hamilton frowns.

Lin scribbles something on it and then hands it back to the servant with a smile. "It was a pleasure meeting you—" he pauses, looking at the plate on her chest with a name written upon it. "—Sheila."

"Thanks. You, too! Enjoy your meals!" She replies before walking away.

Lin turns around and pushes Hamilton's plate to the side to put the parchment and strange quill in front of him. "Sorry about that. Alright, just write down the last thing you were doing before you appeared here or something."

Hamilton frowns at the objects and then picks up the odd quill. "Where is the ink?"

"It's inside the pen," Lin explains patiently. "You can just start writing and it will appear. No need to dip for ink."

Hamilton stares at it in his hand. "How peculiar." He puts his hand down on the parchment and begins writing. His writing is rather sloppy at first considering the strange weight of this so-called 'pen', but after a short while, he gets more comfortable with it. He smiles as he writes. "This is considerably easier to write with. The ink continues to spill upon the page without my having to stop to refill the tip. Truly an incredible invention."

Lin chuckles. "Yeah, it's pretty useful." Hamilton finishes the few sentences he has written and then signs his name at the bottom. He lifts up the parchment to blow on it.

"What are you doing?" Lin asks with a bewildered chuckle.

Hamilton stops blowing and lifts a curious brow at Lin. "I am blowing on the ink so it can dry. Do you not do such a thing in the future?"

Lin smirks. "No, not really. The ink dries on its own pretty fast."

Hamilton hums in response before carefully handing Lin the parchment. Lin carefully grabs it and reads the words. His eyes widen at the sight of it.

"Damn, your handwriting perfectly matches Hamilton's. If I had any small doubts before, I think they're all gone now." Lin doesn't look up as he continues reading.

> _To Lin_
> 
> _December 2. 1794?_
> 
> _I was partaking in a stroll to deliver my letter of resignation to President Washington. On my way home the storm outside had worsened to a state in which I found myself slipping into the future — I will have you know I slipped on ice and I was suddenly on the hard ground in front of you, good sir — Lin. My apologies. I hope this letter will suffice and convince you that I am who I claim to be._
> 
> _A.Hamilton_

"Will this letter convince you, or shall I perform more tasks to prove my name?" Hamilton asks with a curious gaze and a tilted head.

"No, no. I think this is enough. I mean, you did appear out of nowhere right in front of me. I still can't figure out if I'm dreaming or lost my damn mind quite yet," Lin replies as he puts the letter down on the table.

"You and I both." Hamilton drags his plate in front of himself again and continues to eat.

"How did you even get here? And how do we get you home?" Lin asks after a moment of silent eating.

Hamilton swallows his final bite. "I wish I knew the answer."

"Well, I'm willing to help you since nobody else here would believe you," Lin replies with a shy smile.

"I thank you, but I am a grown man. I can help myself, " Hamilton replies as he curiously grabs what looks like a small yellow stick. "What was this called again?"

Lin laughs. "You don't even know what a fucking French fry is. Look, I don't doubt that you're a very smart man, but you have to admit that you're a bit out of your element here. I know everything about the future. This is my present, after all. I can provide you with a place to stay and help out any way you need until we can get you back home to your wife and kids."

Hamilton pouts at Lin, feeling like a petulant child. The man looks very kind, his eyes being as dark as his Betsey's. Somewhere in the back of his head, he shoves that comparison away to dwell on another day. "I suppose your help is not unwarranted. If it will not be too much trouble, I will take you up on your offer." Hamilton's lips tug downwards. "I do wish I can repay you somehow for your kindness."

Lin holds his hand out over the table. "I help you with any questions you have regarding the future and getting you home. In exchange, you can answer any questions I have about the past. Deal?"

Hamilton considers this for a moment before shaking his hand. "Deal."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope y'all enjoyed this dialogue-heavy chapter that's literally just an interrogation.
> 
> Also, nobody is questioning what Hamilton is wearing because it is 2:30AM in New York. If New York is anything like Toronto, I have honestly seen people dressed in a stranger manner to Hamilton before and I didn't even bat an eye at them, lol.
> 
> Fun Fact: I chose to have Hamilton eat a cheeseburger so that I can make comparrisons to The Cheesburger Song from VeggieTales. (It's a song about adultery, lmao.) If y'all haven't seen VeggieTales, here is a clip of the song from the show on YouTube. (It was an obscure 90s Christian kids cartoon.) [Sorry, I wasn't able to send the official clip because it is considered a kids video on YouTube and those videos don't have link-sharing abilities. Have this lyric video instead so you can at least hear the song.]  
> Link: https://youtu.be/z7yDG-e1mpE


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _*Casually swipes my artistic liberty card again like it's a bus pass.*_
> 
> This chapter turned out way longer than originally intended. I hope y'all don't mind that this chapter is long AF. A lot of *~*Pondering Lin*~*
> 
> Thanks for all the comments, bookmarks, and kudos! I really appreciate it! 😊

Lin unlocks the door to his apartment feeling drunk, even though he hasn't had a single drop of alcohol in over 48-hours. He feels like he should fix that, but he also needs to stay sober to properly deal with his time-travelling companion.

Lin shuffles inside and hits the lightswitch, vaguely gesturing towards his living room. "You can sit on the couch. Make yourself at home."

Hamilton slowly walks into the apartment and visibly tenses at the sight of everything. He sits as stiff as a brick while his eyes roam the apartment.

"If anything is overwhelmingly confusing for you, please do not hesitate to ask," Lin says politely before entering his kitchen. "Would you like some water?"

"Oh, yes please." Hamilton frowns as he watches Lin pour him a glass of water from his tap. "How...peculiar. Water pumps directly into your home?"

"Oh yeah," Lin chuckles nervously. "We have invented indoor plumbing at some point within the two centuries since you've been around."

"Indoor plumbing," Hamilton says slowly, testing the clearly foreign words on his tongue. 

Lin walks into the living room and sits across from Hamilton on the chair. He passes Hamilton the glass of water and the man takes a large gulp. Lin silently laments that the poor guy must be thirsty as hell if he has never seen clean water before tonight. "Hey, uh, if your water is dirty, what do you drink to hydrate yourself?"

"Typically tea. Mostly alcohol." Hamilton takes another gulp. "Wine...whiskey."

"Alcohol is known to actually dehydrate people," Lin replies casually.

"You don't say?" Hamilton hums, taking another sip before placing the glass down. "How exactly does this 'indoor plumbing' work?"

Lin bites his bottom lip. "Honestly, I don't know much about it. It's always just been there in my life? The best way I could describe it is that there are metal tubes called pipes that lead to the sewers and the city's water supply. And then I can just turn on the tap and I get clean water?"

Hamilton nods. Lin wonders to himself if the man is only nodding out of politeness and is unwilling to admit that none of what he said made any sense. "Sorry, this must all be very difficult to grasp. Even for a man as smart as you. I would be very out of my element if our positions were reversed."

Hamilton smiles shyly at this before replying. "It would appear that I am rather, as you say, out of my element."

Lin feels slightly better knowing he said the right thing to ease his guest. He watches Hamilton carefully as the man examines the apartment with an almost child-like awe. Hamilton grabs the picture frame on the table beside the couch.

"This is a very small family portrait," Hamilton comments in a low voice. He looks up at Lin. "This is your family, correct?"

"Yeah, my wife and two-year-old Sebastian. They're on a trip with her family upstate this weekend." Lin pauses, watching Hamilton stare at the photo with a soft fondness. "I miss them."

"You did not go with them?" Hamilton asks, flickering his gaze back to Lin.

"I have to work," Lin replies with a tired shrug.

Hamilton nods, his lips tugging into a frown. "It seems that even though two centuries have gone by, work can still keep a man from his family… what a shame."

Lin doesn't comment on that. He furrows his brows, trying to remember details about Hamilton's life. If it is 1794 where he is from, then surely the...he already had the…

"Would you like to have a shower?" Lin asks instead of letting his thoughts run further into a territory he cannot go to. Hamilton puts the photo down and gives Lin that same confused frown that is almost burned into the poor man's features by this point. 

"Shower?"

"It's like a bath, but you stand under clean pouring water. Kinda like your own personal gentle rainfall. I'll show you," Lin replies as he stands up.

Hamilton doesn't say anything as he follows Lin down the hallway to the bathroom. Lin turns on the light and Hamilton stares at the room with a new astonishment.

"That right there is the toilet," Lin says as he points at the object in question. "You uh, how do I say this? That's where you take care of your downstairs business. And you can flush it away. No need to use a pot or bushes or whatever you use in seventeen-ninety-four." 

"Oh?" Hamilton hums in surprise. "I see…"

"That's another sink. You can wash your hands there. And uh, that is the bathtub. The shower is in the corner beside the bath. You wash yourself with it. I have soap you can use." Lin folds his arms over his chest. "I also have some comfortable clothes that I can give you to wear after you're done. I'd offer to throw your current clothes in the washing machine, but I'm afraid it'll just ruin it."

"I…" Hamilton blinks. "How do I use this, what did you call it, shower?"

"I can show you!" Lin replies, ushering Hamilton in the bathroom. He opens the shower door and places his hand on the knob. "All you have to do is pull this until it turns on. Then you can adjust the temperature of the water by turning left for hot and right for cold." Lin pulls the knob to demonstrate how to use the shower. It turns on and Hamilton flinches. "When you want it off, you just push it," Lin adds while he holds his hand under the water and turns the dial until the water feels warm enough without being too hot. "There, is that alright?" Lin asks, stepping back and gesturing towards the shower.

Hamilton slowly stretches his arm out and holds his hand under the streaming water. He stares at it, completely mesmerized. "Incredible…"

"I'll go get you some fresh clothes. When you're done, you can use one of the towels from the cupboard here to dry yourself off." Lin opens the cupboard and pulls out a towel and places it on the counter beside the shower. He grabs his shampoo and body wash and shakes them at Hamilton. "This is shampoo. It cleans your hair. Don't get it in your eyes," Lin says as he wiggles the bottle before putting it back in the shower. "And this is body wash. Just... don't get either of these in your eyes or mouth. It's not pleasant."

Hamilton nods as Lin puts the body wash back into the shower and steps away. "You can leave your clothes anywhere. I'll leave you some of my clothes outside of the bathroom door. If you need anything, don't hesitate to call for me. I'll just be down the hall."

"Alright." Hamilton turns to Lin. "Thank you, Lin."

Lin gives him a bright smile before closing the door on his way out. He sighs, rubbing his face before entering his bedroom to grab a pair of black sweatpants and a grey logoless tee-shirt. He opens his underwear drawer and stares at his boxer briefs for a long time, frowning at them. _Did people even wear underwear back then? Is sharing your underwear a weird thing to do even if it's clean?_ Lin sighs and adds it to the pile, figuring that Hamilton can decide whether or not he wants to wear it.

Lin adds a pair of white socks to the pile and then he leaves it in front of the bathroom door. He hesitates at the door, hearing the water splash irregularly; indicating that Hamilton must be standing under the spray by now. Lin turns around and enters the living room. 

He stares for a long time at the family portrait that Hamilton was looking at. He languidly blinks before turning on his heel to enter the adjacent kitchen and grabs the bottle of rum from the back of the pantry. He pours himself a small amount in a pink plastic cup before taking a swig of it. He makes a face before putting the rum away and tossing the cup in the sink.

His mind is wandering everywhere at once. Hamilton must be in his late thirties which just weirds out Lin. Technically, he is the same age as Hamilton. He shakes the thought out of his head. Hamilton mentioned something about sending a letter. His letter of resignation, to be precise. 

Lin sits on the couch and pulls out his phone. He immediately googles _'Alexander Hamilton's letter of resignation'_ into the search bar. He finds exactly what he is looking for; the letter itself. Well, he found the digital transcript version, at least. He reads it a few times, furrowing his brows. This is the last thing that the Hamilton in his shower has written. Anything after that date is the future for Hamilton. Lin sighs, leaning back in his seat. He doesn't die for another ten years. He hasn't had all of his kids or lost any of them yet. And he also has not revealed his affair to the public yet. Lin tiredly rubs his face and looks at the time.

**_3:12 AM_ **

Lin pulls up his phone contacts list and shoots Javier a text.

**Lin: Hey. Something came up and I won't be able to make it into work tomorrow. Can you cover for me?**

Lin frowns at the message after hitting send, already regretting his decision. He blinks in surprise to see a response so soon. He wasn't expecting a response until morning.

**Javier: yeah, np. is everything ok?**

**Lin: Yeah. I'm just exhausted and Groffsauce told me to take a break.**

**Javier: since when have you ever listened to any of us when we tell you to take a damn break? lol**

**Javier: nvm i'll just not question it. you deserve a break. i got u covered (:**

**Lin: Thanks :) Break a leg tomorrow night!**

**Javier: will do. i'll be sure to shatter the bones to the point if no return. lol**

**Javier: *of**

Lin smiles at the message before closing it. He opens the internet browser again and clicks on a new tab to search more stuff about Alexander Hamilton. He knows a lot about the man, but he has to make sure he doesn't accidentally tell the poor guy about his own future. He's already overwhelmed at the sight of cheeseburgers, fries, and clean water. There is no need to worsen his state of mind by revealing stuff about him that he hasn't done yet.

Lin pauses in his google searching, realizing something. _If Hamilton is from 1794, then how come the universe didn't collapse on itself? Isn't paradoxes and the threat of erasing the timeline an issue? Should Hamilton even know what indoor plumbing is or clean water or even what a goddamned cheeseburger is? Will that upset the stability of the universe or something? Will the universe explode because Hamilton is currently taking a shower in Lin's apartment?_

Lin tries to focus on his breathing when he realizes that his heart is pounding. Thinking about this for too long is not good for anyone's mental state. Lin puts his phone down and rubs his forehead mostly out of habit now.

"Are you alright?" Lin startles at the sound of the other man's voice. He quickly remembers that he wasn't alone in his apartment. He stares at Hamilton standing in the corridor between the living room and hallway. He is shifting his weight, tugging at the sweatpants with a concerned frown aimed at Lin. He almost looks like a normal guy with Lin's clothes on, but he also looks extremely uncomfortable in the clothes.

"Yeah. It's just been a long day. I managed to get my work covered for tomorrow so I can stay here with you to figure all of this out," Lin replies with a forced smile. He realizes it probably looks more like a grimace so he stops trying to smile.

Hamilton runs a hand through his damp curls and nods. "Alright, then."

Lin nods and then stops because _why is he nodding?_ He shakes his head but then stops that motion as well. "I need sleep. You probably should sleep, too."

Hamilton frowns but doesn't say anything. Lin stands up and walks past Hamilton. "Follow me," he says as he walks, turning to make sure Hamilton is following his instructions. "Was the shower okay? Any issues?"

"It was very relaxing," Hamilton replies. "I do wish I had a shower in my own home."

Lin chuckles lightly at that. "Yeah, I bet. Unfortunately, you need indoor plumbing for that to work."

"Well, I do wish indoor plumbing was invented in my own time," Hamilton replies.

"That would be nice, huh?" Lin comments off-handedly. He opens his son's bedroom door. "My son sleeps in the crib but we do have a bed ready for him when he grows up. You can sleep on it since it's not being used. It's better than sleeping on the couch."

Hamilton nods and enters the room, examining it carefully. "You mentioned earlier that your son is only two years of age?"

"Yeah," Lin replies, his hand still resting on the doorknob, his eyes following Hamilton around the room.

"My youngest, John, is only two as well," Hamilton says with a small smile. He rests his hands on the wooden crib and smiles into it. Lin wonders if Hamilton is smiling at a memory rather than the actual crib.

"Oh yeah? How many kids do you have?" Lin asks casually, trying to not let on that he knows exactly how many kids Hamilton has in 1794.

Hamilton smiles fondly, flickering his gaze to Lin. "My oldest is Philip. He is twelve," Hamilton begins, tracing his finger along the smooth wooden crib. "Then there is Anggie, my only daughter. She is ten. Alexander Junior, eight. James who is six, and then my youngest, John. Two." Hamilton sits on the bed and stares at his hands in his lap. "They are one of the main reasons for my resigning. My family means the world to me and I did not want to miss seeing my children grow up."

Lin stares at Hamilton and feels rather guilty. He doesn't entirely know why. It seems strange to hear this man speak so casually about his family. He seems genuine and pure in his intentions, which only causes that guilt to worsen. Lin wonders briefly in his mind if the affair is another big factor in Hamilton's decision to quit his job, but he doesn't voice this thought.

Hamilton is just a man. A man lost in time. Lin watches Hamilton stare at the crib with a forlorn look in his dark blue eyes. They don't really look violet like people claim, but they are a very deep blue that's hard to look away from. His hair is darker when damp, giving it an Auburn look. It almost looked strawberry-blonde when it was dry. His face is pale with dozens of freckles displayed across his nose and cheeks. He is thin but not frail, and his body seems rigged and stiff on the bed. He is just... a man in an unfamiliar place.

"I'll help you get home to your family," Lin says, ending the long silence. Hamilton's gaze burns into Lin. The intense look in his eyes has Lin on edge, but he sighs with relief when he sees the light smile gracing the man's lips.

"Thank you, Lin. For your hospitality."

Lin waves him off. "It's not a problem. I'm gonna head to bed now. If you need anything else, don't hesitate to ask. I'll be in the room next door."

Hamilton gives one curt nod before folding his hands in his lap. "Good night."

Lin smiles. "Good night." 

* * *

Lin groans at the sound of his phone ringing. He rolls over to grab it but only slaps his hand on his empty nightstand. He peels an eye open to look but groans again when he remembers he left his phone on the couch last night. His ringer must be left on full volume if he can hear it from inside his room. He lays for another moment until his eyes snap open, realizing the sound is getting louder.

"What in god's name is this!? Please make it stop!" Hamilton yells from the hallway. Lin sits up just in time to see Hamilton barging into his room with his cellphone in his hand. The sight is a painful reminder that last night was not a dream.

"Help me, I cannot make it stop!" Hamilton cries out as he holds the cellphone like it is about to attack him; pinched between his thumb and index finger at arm's length.

Lin crawls to the end of his bed and grabs the phone from Hamilton. He squints at it before he feels an icy sensation pour down his spine. His wife is calling him.

"Please, keep your mouth shut," Lin says to Hamilton quickly before answering the phone. "Honey? Hey! What's up?"

Hamilton frowns deeply at Lin but says nothing. Lin almost laughs at the thought that Hamilton is actually keeping his mouth shut.

"I called you three times. I was getting worried," his wife, Vanessa, says through the phone. Luckily for Lin, her voice sounds more worried than annoyed. 

"Yeah, sorry. I left my phone on the couch last night and it took me a while to get it since you woke me up," Lin replies while rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Hamilton raises a curious brow at Lin, his mouth still clamped shut.

"Sorry to wake you. I know you don't get much sleep these days…" Vanessa says in a low voice.

"No, it's okay. How's the trip going? Is Sebastian having fun?" Lin asks with a smile.

"Yeah, we took him to the lake yesterday. He made his first sandcastle!" Vanessa says, perking up at the inquiry.

Lin frowns. "That's amazing. Wish I was there to witness it…"

"We both miss you so much, sweetheart." 

Lin chews on his bottom lip and looks at Hamilton. "I miss you both, too. I can't wait for you to come home on Monday."

Hamilton's eyebrows furrow as his frown deepens. He seems confused which is understandable. Lin continues to stare at Hamilton as he speaks. "Give Seb many kisses from Papa, okay?"

"I will," Vanessa replies, sounding almost breathless.

"I've gotta go honey, but I'll call you again later." Lin pauses, his gaze still locked with Hamilton's. "I love you," Lin adds softly. Hamilton blinks and steps backwards, seemingly startled. Lin seems to snap out of whatever daze he was in. He presses his finger to his lips, hoping Hamilton understands this as 'be quiet.' He kind of feels like a cheating husband hiding a one night stand from his wife right now and he doesn't entirely know why. Hamilton is more like a lost puppy that he decided to take in without asking his wife first. Either way, he feels guilty.

"Okay. Talk to you later. Oh wait, before you go," Vanessa says before strange sounds come from the phone. "Sebastian, say bye-bye to daddy!"

"Bye-bye dah-dee!" Sebastian's tiny voice squeaks through the phone. Lin smiles, feeling warm inside. He blinks a few times to avoid crying. His emotions are all over the place.

"Bye-bye, Sebastian. I love you!" Lin replies in a softer voice. He smiles when he hears his son giggle.

Vanessa's voice comes back on the line. "Talk to you later, hon."

"Bye. Love you."

"Love you, too," Vanessa says before the line is cut. Lin pulls the phone from his face and stares sadly at it for a moment. He looks up at Hamilton who looks like he is about to vomit a million words a second.

"Okay, you can speak now," Lin says calmly.

"What is that? What just happened?" Hamilton asks quickly, sounding like a petulant child.

"This is a cell phone. My wife called me. I was just speaking to her... and my son for a second there at the end," Lin explains patiently. "It's an invention that allows you to communicate with people who aren't near you at the moment."

Hamilton blinks, his mouth is agape. "I see," he says after a moment.

"The loud noise you heard is the sound it makes when someone is calling you." Lin stands up. "Are you alright? Did you sleep well?"

Hamilton shakes his head. "I did not sleep at all."

Lin frowns at this. "Shit, really? Sorry about that."

"It is quite alright," Hamilton waves him off. "I hope you do not mind but I used your parchment and the uh, what was it you called it?" Hamilton scrunches his nose in thought before snapping his fingers. "Pen! I sat at your desk and wrote if that is alright?"

Lin smiles with a curious brow lifted. "You wrote all night? I mean, yeah, that's fine. What did you write?"

"I wrote thoughts, poems, anything that appeared in my mind," Hamilton replies with a shrug. "You do not mind?"

"No, not at all. I'm sorry you couldn't sleep, but I'm glad you found something to keep you busy," Lin replies with a friendly pat on Hamilton's shoulder. Hamilton watches the kind gesture with stoic features before letting a tiny smile escape.

"I only did not sleep because it was mid-morning before I appeared in your time." Hamilton shrugs. "Sleep escapes me every day, so surely all of this excitement would have kept me awake either way."

"Oh," Lin replies, feeling rather dumb for not having something more insightful to say. "Are you hungry?" He asks instead of trying to say something more meaningful. He checks his phone for the time.

**_11:37 AM_ **

He would have definitely slept in later if Vanessa hadn't called. He's grateful he was woken up. He can't leave Hamilton alone in his apartment any longer. 

"I would very much enjoy a meal. I am very famished," Hamilton says, rubbing his stomach.

"You can come wake me up in the night if you need anything," Lin says as he leads the time-travelling founding father out of his bedroom. "If you're hungry in the night or need to write. Anything." Lin stops in his tracks when he sees his office. All of his printer paper is piled neatly on his desk, and from the looks of it, there is writing in all of it. His bin beside the desk is overflowing with crumpled pieces of paper. _Did Hamilton write a novel while he slept?_

"I tried to keep your space organized since it is yours and not mine. The strange candle on your desk was already lit when I entered and it has stayed consistently lit all night. Truly a marvellous invention. I did not know how to put it out, however."

"It's a lamp." Lin enters his office and switches it off. "This button here turns it on and off."

"Oh. I see," Hamilton says, slowly nodding his head.

Lin looks down at the top page - it looks like a poem - he doesn't read it. Lin walks out of the office and waves at Hamilton to follow him. A part of him wants to read everything Hamilton has written out of pure nerdy-curiosity. But seeing Hamilton stand there, in his apartment, in the flesh, has seemingly changed his whole view of the guy. He had an awareness that he was just a man before he met him, but now that knowledge hits harder after having actually met him.

This is someone who helped form a country and who loves his family. He is flawed, intelligent, and so damn clueless.

“Sit,” Lin mumbles while vaguely gesturing towards the small dining table in the kitchen. Hamilton obediently does as he is told and sits up tall.

Lin grabs some eggs out of the fridge and some onions and peppers, deciding to make omelettes. He pauses in his actions. “Do you like eggs?”

“Yes,” Hamilton replies politely.

“I was thinking of making omelettes. Is that okay?”

“Yes,” Hamilton says in the same tone as before.

Lin makes their omelettes quickly and plates them before bringing them to the table. His brain is stuck in a blur and time seems to be relative and essentially non-existent to him anymore.

“Would you like something to drink? I have orange juice,” Lin inquires before sitting down.

“Orange juice?” Hamilton asks with a baffled look.

“You’ve never had orange juice?” Lin asks. Then he mentally kicks himself. “Right. Yeah. Would you like to try it?

“I am willing to try whatever you have to offer, Lin,” Hamilton responds with a polite smile. Lin wishes Hamilton would just slouch _once in his goddamned life_ as he pulls out the orange juice and pours them into two small glasses. He hands one to Hamilton and sits down with his own, taking a generous sip before digging into his meal.

Hamilton frowns at Lin but then repeats his actions. “This is very sweet,” Hamilton comments in an almost dead-panned tone after he takes a sip. He places the cup down and takes a bite of his food.

Hamilton chews his food slowly, keeping his gaze locked on his plate. Lin tries to ignore him and continues eating his own food.

After a few minutes of eating, Hamilton speaks up again. “Do you not pray before eating breakfast?”

Lin nearly chokes on his food. He clears his throat with some orange juice before looking at Hamilton. “No, I don’t. My family doesn’t do that... I, uh - we eat breakfast at different times. My wife and son are always up before me.”

Hamilton nods, humming in response. He takes another bite of his food. “My Betsey always makes us pray before eating a meal as a family.” He pauses. “I never prayed. I would pretend to.”

Lin pauses mid-bite, staring at Hamilton in bewilderment. _Is...Hamilton trying to make conversation?_ _That seems like a personal thing to reveal to someone you just met._ Lin doesn’t comment on it. He just nods slowly while chewing his food.

Another short moment of silence. “Do you think I am being punished by God, Lin?”

Lin looks back at Hamilton and sees him picking at his food, looking dejected. Lin thinks about his response very carefully. “I think...the world makes less sense than we realized, Hamilton. I don’t think you’re being punished. I think what happened to you was an accident.”

Hamilton doesn’t look up at Lin. “It does not feel like an accident, Lin. It feels as if I am finally being tortured for the life of sin I have lived until this point…”

Lin chews on the inside of his cheek. This existential conversation is too much for Lin to handle while trying to eat an omelette near noon on a Thursday. He takes a large bite from his food to give himself time to think of a decent response before he can swallow.

Hamilton sighs. “I suppose you would not understand. If I am on your currency then surely people in your time do not know much about me as a man rather than the very first Treasury Secretary.”

Lin swallows his food. Hamilton isn’t entirely wrong with that statement, but he also doesn’t realize who he is speaking to. Lin takes a sip of his juice before speaking. “That’s not entirely true. I’ve read a lot about you. Your wife did a great job in keeping your legacy alive. You do not seem to be any worse than any typical person today, Hamilton. Nobody is a saint. We all make mistakes and that’s...okay. You still have the rest of your life to make things better.”

Hamilton stares at Lin for a long time. “I do not deserve my wife. If what you say is true - that she carries on my legacy...I truly am unworthy of happiness."

Lin sighs, dropping his fork to rub at his forehead. “Hamilton,” He begins, speaking very slowly. “If you were being punished right now, then that would mean that my world is Hell and I would rather not like to believe that is true. You’re just overwhelmed and probably sleep-deprived. Trust me when I say that nothing you have done could have made you deserving of this fate. Nobody deserves this. We will get through this together. I will make sure you return home to your family...we just need patience.” Lin pauses. “And maybe a DeLorean…” Lin adds under his breath with a low chuckle. “I don’t know anything about time travel, but we will figure it out. Together. If you were brought here, you should be able to go back.”

Hamilton frowns at his food and nods. He looks back at Lin and smiles a fair amount. “Thank you, Lin. You are correct. We can figure this out. There is surely a logical explanation for all of this.”

Lin smiles. “Exactly.” He leans forward and comfortingly pats Hamilton’s shoulder. “You’re gonna be fine. Besides, what could you have done that was so bad that made you deserving of this?”

Lin instantly regrets asking this when he sees Hamilton’s features slacken and pale. He jerks away from Lin’s hand. “Nothing. You are right,” Hamilton says too quickly, turning to shove more omelette into his mouth.

Lin frowns. He wonders if he should mention that he knows about Hamilton’s affair, wondering if that’s what is on the poor guy’s mind right now. He can’t find it in himself to speak, however. Lin just slides further into his seat and finishes eating quietly, letting the conversation drop entirely.

Lin wonders briefly if there was anything else that happened in Hamilton’s life that nobody knows about. _Did he accidentally murder someone? Did he have an illegitimate child? What else could he have done to make him act so nervous and guilty? He realizes that Hamilton was right. Nobody truly knows the man behind the first Treasury Secretary._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shower + Omlette = Existential Crisis  
> (That lovely comment is courtesy of my friend, Grace, who is amazing.)
> 
> Anywho, I'll see y'all soon (Hopefully Friday!) I switch between perspectives each chapter, so _maybe_ we will get more of an idea of what is going on in Hamilton's noggin next chapter. 😏


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Before you read, I have an important note:**
> 
> I have noticed a major error _(in terms of historical accuracy)_ whilst researching and had to go back to previous chapters on here and fix them. I would recommend you go back to re-read it, but if you don't want to: The errors that I have fixed were simply any mention that Hamilton was living in New York in 1794 — I fixed it so he was living in Philadelphia since that was where he, Eliza, and their children were _actually_ living at that time. I apologize for overlooking this information and I hope this doesn't lead to confusion for anyone in the future. I am usually a stickler for historical accuracy such as this, but I had mistakenly assumed Hamilton lived at The Grange in Upstate New York at this time. I will no longer post another chapter without triple-checking historical facts such as this. As much as I swipe my artistic liberty card for purposes of speculation, (ie. Hamilton's reactions to the 21st century and filling any gaps/holes in history) I would not wish to falsify any information that is public knowledge such as where he resided with his family in 1794. I mean, he was trying to convince Lin that he was actually Hamilton, so having him say flat-out _wrong_ information in that scene kinda ruined the whole point of it — so I fixed it. The information has now been corrected, but I felt you all deserved to know so there is no confusion.
> 
> This was part of the reason why this chapter took so long to post (as well as the fact that I just returned home yesterday from a trip up north with my sisters, but I digress.)
> 
> Thank you!

_“Hamilton?”_

_Alexander startles at the sound of his name being called; he is dragged out of a strange haze. He blinks, staring at General Washington with his lips pulled into a crooked frown._

_“My apologies, sir,” Hamilton replies meekly. He salutes General Washington and is flooded with a strange feeling of deja-vu._

_"I was asking if you have that letter to Congress prepared?" Washington inquiries, sounding patient and paternal._

_Hamilton frowns. He looks down and sees an envelope in his hand. "Yes, I am to send it off after you review it, sir," Hamilton replies in a strange tone as if he is only saying lines that were previously scripted for him in a play._

_"No need, Hamilton. You may send it off on your own," Washington replies almost dismissively as he waves him off. "I will check in with the aides later on. As you were, son."_

_Hamilton bites his cheek, wanting to say something more, but finds himself turning around and exiting the General's tent as if he were a puppet suspended on strings._ **_‘Don’t call me son.’_ **

_Outside of the tent, there is a horrid hurricane ripping away at houses and palm trees. The house across the street is set ablaze and he sees a woman screaming with her hair burning. Hamilton gasps, turning around to re-enter the tent. It is no longer a tent as he enters — it is the room he and John Laurens shared at Valley Forge. He sees Laurens sitting at the desk, scribbling something furiously with the quill, ignoring the storm outside._

_“Are you finished?” Hamilton inquires, desperately wanting to embrace his long lost friend and ask him about the storm._ **_Why can’t he move or speak as he wishes?_ **

_“Almost—” Laurens dips the quill into the ink before continuing without looking up. “Tis usually I who attempts to drag you away from writing, Hamilton.”_

_Hamilton feels himself smiling, but he wishes to scream. “Aye. So you must listen to me if I am requesting you to put it down and join me to bed, my dear Laurens.” Hamilton feels himself walking over to Laurens, his heart pounding as rapidly as the rain smacking violently against the window._ **_‘Look out for the storm, John!’_ ** _He wishes to scream._

_Laurens stops and turns his head slowly. As he stands up, he pulls a sword out of its sheath, blood dripping out of a bullet wound in his chest. The parchment, ink, and quill are nowhere to be seen on the desk behind him any longer._

_“Put it down, John!” Hamilton chokes out, his voice sounding hoarse as he is finally able to speak what he wishes to say. “Come with me. We can fight in congress together for our new country.”_

_John opens his mouth to speak but blood oozes from his parted lips. The ruby shade of the blood is a potent contrast to the desaturated environment around them. The storm rages on outside, stronger than ever. “I cannot,” John whispers, the blood dripping to the floor now. Hamilton reaches out to him but the window crashes, blowing away the remaining candles to submerge them into the cold and wet darkness._

Hamilton gasps awake, sitting up in the unfamiliar bed as he pants desperately for air. He wipes the sweat from his forehead and focuses on breathing for a moment. After he gathers his bearings and is able to focus on his surroundings, he remembers slipping and falling into the future. A man named Lin has taken him in.

Hamilton steps out of the bed and searches the man’s apartment on a mission, not allowing himself to dwell on his nightmare. _‘I have so much work to do…’_ repeats like a mantra in his head as he manages to find a large pile of parchment paper and a pen to write within what he assumes is Lin’s office. He sits at the table, barely registering where he is anymore as he begins writing furiously.

> _Quit your sword my friend, put on the toga, come to Congress. We know each others sentiments, our views are the same: we have fought side by side to make America free, let us hand in hand struggle to make her happy._
> 
> _Yrs for ever_
> 
> _A.Hamilton_

Hamilton blinks at the paragraph before crumbling it up and throwing it away furiously into the bin beside the desk.

* * *

The next morning, after Lin speaks with his wife on the _‘cell phone’_ and then eating breakfast, Hamilton finds himself staring at the strange box that Lin described as being a _television_. Hamilton finds that he barely understands anything even with Lin's explanations, and he wonders if Lin himself doesn't quite know how most things function, either.

He did promise to introduce Hamilton to what a movie is, so now they are _'watching The Wizard of Oz.'_ Hamilton feels stiff as he stares at the… _‘What was it? The moving pictures? Movie. Dammit, you know this, Alexander.’_ He sighs, resting his chin on his hand as he leans over the arm of the couch.

Hamilton tries to avoid shuffling uncomfortably in the clothes provided to him by Lin, but he does not like the feeling of the fabric on his skin. He also feels poorly underdressed, but he supposes people wear fewer layers in the future. Lin is also wearing similar clothing and seems comfortable enough.

Hamilton sits up tall again, realizing he has been slouching. _Why are they doing this?_ He would rather be working right now. Or perhaps spending time with his family. Hamilton decides he does not enjoy movies very much.

"I do not like this." Lin turns his head at the sound of Hamilton's voice.

"Oh, why?"

Hamilton purses his lips as he looks over at Lin. "Perhaps we could discuss how to return myself home?"

"You wanted to know what a movie was," Lin says, folding his arms over his chest. He does not sound challenging or upset. He is _patient_ like a father with a petulant child. Hamilton resists the urge to grumble that he _is_ _an intelligent and honourable man and shall not be treated as a child._

"I still do not understand what a movie is, and I fear I will never entirely grasp it," Hamilton replies with a frown instead of fuming at Lin. The man is only trying to help, after all.

Lin grabs the thing he called a _remote_ and presses one of the buttons on it, causing the movie to freeze. Hamilton stares at the television but says nothing. Dorothy's face is frozen with awe, unmoving. She is in a strange new world with colour and she wants to go home. Hamilton finally understands.

"Oh," he says, still staring at the television.

"Oh?" Lin repeats questioningly.

"Dorothy and I are in similar predicaments. We were both sent to strange new worlds through a storm and we wish to return home." Hamilton looks at Lin who seems to be smiling fondly now, the remote still in his hand. "How does she return home?"

Lin chuckles. "If you watched the whole movie you would know."

Hamilton frowns. Lin sighs, putting the remote on the coffee table and fully facing Hamilton on the couch. Hamilton mirrors his position.

"Dorothy returns home with some magical ruby red shoes. I do not think we have any of those lying around," Lin says with a smirk. "It's also thought that maybe it was all just a dream because when she returns home, she wakes up in her bed and realizes all of the strange people she met were just copies of people she knew."

"I have never seen your face before," Hamilton says. "I never forget a face. Yours is new. This could not be a dream."

Lin leans back, seemingly pondering what Hamilton has said. Then his cell phone rings, causing Hamilton to flinch. Lin grabs it, looks at it, then groans before rolling his eyes.

"Hello?" Lin snaps, his lips pulled into a frown.

Hamilton watches Lin's expression change. He tiredly rubs the corners of his eyes. "Seriously? _Again?_ We need a new soundboard if this keeps happening…"

Hamilton looks back at the image of Dorothy on the television, keeping his mouth shut. "Alright, I'll be there soon. Give me like an hour so I can get dressed...okay, bye." Lin taps his cell phone and tosses it between Hamilton and himself on the couch with a drawn-out groan.

"What seems to be the problem?" Hamilton asks, turning his head to face Lin again.

"Even though I got my work covered tonight, they still need me to come in today." Lin looks into Hamilton's eyes. "I'll have to be gone for two, maybe three hours at most."

Hamilton looks around at Lin's apartment. He thinks about last night and how long it took him to find the parchment paper and pen. He frowns right as Lin does.

"I can't leave you here alone." It seems Lin is thinking the same thing as Hamilton.

"Are you proposing that I go with you to your place of work?" Hamilton asks, his head tilting.

"I don't know. It's a bad idea, right?" Lin lifts a curious brow, his face looking helpless.

"Perhaps…" Hamilton says slowly, still staring at Lin.

"It would only be a few short hours. And you can stay by my side." Lin presses a button on the remote, causing the television to show nothing but an inky black void. 

Hamilton stares at his reflection in the television; he frowns. "I know not of this world…"

Lin makes a strange face. "Just you and me, walking down the streets of New York. As long as you're with me you should be fine...right?" He does not sound very convinced of his own words.

Hamilton stares at Lin for a moment. "Will I not stand out?"

Lin laughs. "Not if I let you borrow some of my clothes. You should fit right in." Lin frowns, leaning forward. "Oh, and we should probably avoid telling anyone who you are. Just...keep your identity and your time-travelling situation a secret between you and me."

Hamilton feels himself pout in confusion but decides to nod. As much as he hates to admit it, he needs Lin's help. They need to stay low for now and figure this out. Besides, this would not be the first secret he kept between himself and another man.

* * *

Hamilton does not feel like he is blending into this futuristic society. He rubs the sweat from his brow and adjusts the strange hat Lin lent to him. _'It's called a baseball cap'_ Lin's words echo in Hamilton's brain as he recalls the name. He recalls the names of all of the clothing items listed as Lin handed them to him nearly an hour ago now.

_"This is a plain purple tee shirt. It's made of cotton — hmm, actually mostly polyester," Lin had explained to him. "And these are blue jeans. I honestly think those are mostly polyester as well, now that I think about it."_

_"Am I supposed to know what polyester is?" Hamilton had asked._

_"A fabric?" Lin said, his face scrunching with clear confusion._

_"You do not know?"_

_"Like I said — you'll fit in with modern society. Everyone just Googles what everything is nowadays since nobody knows shit," Lin replied as he pulled out small white stockings, just like the ones he provided the night previous._

_There is a long pause as Lin handed Hamilton the stockings and Hamilton starred in bewilderment at Lin's statement. "What the hell is a Google?"_

"Hamilton, are you okay?" Lin's voice beside him snaps him out of his own head and unfortunately back into the overwhelming world around him.

Hamilton nearly falls onto the woman sitting in front of him as the — he grabs the pole beside him, apologizing to the lady sheepishly as they come to a complete stop. _'This is a subway Hamilton,'_ he hears Lin's explanation of the thing they are in echo in his brain. There is too much information for him to retain in such a short amount of time that he finds himself losing the words more frequently than he would care to admit. He refuses to ask the same question twice, so he prays his memory is not failing him now.

There is a loud **_'DING'_ ** and the doors slide open. "This is our stop," Lin says, grabbing Hamilton's arm and practically dragging him out of the subway. _Thank the Lord._ He does not enjoy riding it and wishes to avoid it as often as possible.

"We're almost there. How are you holding up?" Lin asks after they are finally above ground. Hamilton flinches as _'those are cars — like self-running carriages'_ screech and honk loudly. People practically shove Hamilton and Lin out of their way as they pass by. Hamilton raises his hands to cover his ears, closing his eyes for a minute.

"I will be fine," Hamilton says, hoping his tone is not appearing as tense as he feels. He opens his eyes when he feels someone's hands on his wrists and sees Lin looking down at him, his eyes wide and kind.

"Hey, it's totally fine if this is all too much for you. Just hang in there a little longer. We're almost at the theatre."

Hamilton removes his hands and nods. He breathes in deeply just as a cloud of smoke floats in the air in front of him, causing him to choke. Lin's face twists into an emotion that Hamilton cannot quite name. _Concern? Disgust?_

"Let us get on with it then!" Hamilton says after taking another breath, not enjoying the strange scents of an unrecognizable New York. He does not recall this many people living here...or it smelling so putrid. 

Hamilton keeps his head down and watches Lin's feet, standing directly behind him to follow. They enter a building eventually and he keeps his head down, hoping the buzzing will subside. His head feels like it is splitting in two — he can recognize a headache when he has one. This feels like the beginning of a migraine.

Lin places his arm on Hamilton's shoulder, a comforting gesture, as they walk down a narrow corridor. They take a flight of stairs and twist and turn through an endless maze until walking out onto a stage.

Hamilton pauses to gaze at it, looking around in awe. Something about the stage feels oddly familiar, yet simultaneously unrecognizable. There are two visible wooden staircases on the stage and brick walls lining the back of the stage. Ropes hang across the expanse of the stage, vaguely reminding Hamilton of ships and ports.

"Surprise!" A chorus of people cheers very suddenly, causing both Lin and Hamilton to startle at the sound. They both look out towards the audience; standing at the edge of the stage is a large group of people with what appears to be a cake in one of their hands.

"Guys?" Lin says, sounding more confused than startled.

"We know you've been working hard, so we decided to have an impromptu celebration lunch in lieu of us getting Tony nominations," the woman carrying the cake says in a very sweet tone.

Hamilton blinks vacantly at the crowd. _There are...a great number of black people in this crowd. None of them seem to be working. They seem...relaxed._

"Who's your friend?" The man beside the woman carrying the cake asks with the brightest smile.

Hamilton looks at Lin and wonders if he looks as pale as Lin does at this moment. Lin returns his gaze to the crowd. "This is, uh — Alex."

Hamilton swallows thickly and turns his head to give the crowd a polite bow. After standing up straight and seeing the crowd has now gained confused glances of their own, he decides to speak. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

In what seems to be a blur, Lin is ushered away and Hamilton somehow has a white plate shoved into his hands that feels like thick parchment paper. He does not remember when he received it and he stares at the food on it with scrunched features.

He desperately looks for Lin, refusing to move from his spot, until a man with hazel eyes and dark hair stands in front of him. His curls are thick and he seems a bit taller than Lin. "Hey, sorry. Didn't think to ask. Do you have any allergies?"

Hamilton blinks. "Pardon?"

"Oh, it's just...you haven't touched your pizza and I was concerned that you might have allergies we didn't know about," the young man says with a soft grin.

"I have never eaten pizza before," Hamilton replies with a sheepish shrug.

"Oh? Well, why don't you give it a try? This is the best pizza in all of New York!" The man's smile seems to become brighter, somehow.

Hamilton frowns at his pizza and then mirrors the man in front of him, picking it up and aiming it towards his mouth. It droops right before it reaches his mouth and he pouts indignantly. "Bugger…" Hamilton grumbles, struggling to get the droopy food into his mouth. After finally getting a small bite, he puts the food down on his parchment plate and smiles. "Tis delicious."

The man's grin goes crooked as he tilts his head at Hamilton. He seems perplexed, if not amused. "Glad you like it." He puts his own pizza on his plate. "I'm Anthony, by the way."

"Alexan—" he pauses. "Alex," he corrects himself.

"It's nice to meet you. Do you mind me asking how you know Lin?" Anthony asks, his tone pleasant. Even though he does not seem to be interrogating and is, in fact, rather casual — all things considered — Hamilton still feels an icy sensation flow through his veins. He has no idea how to answer such a simple question.

As if saved by some miracle, Lin approaches from the side, clapping a hand on Hamilton's shoulder. "Oh, Alex and I go way back. He's, uh, a _really old_ friend of mine."

Hamilton does not know whether to laugh or frown. It seems Lin has chosen his words carefully and yet be jesting all at once; as if they now share a private joke with one another. He allows himself to chuckle. "Yes. Old friends."

Lin snorts, looking at Hamilton with the greatest smile.

"Oh, cool!" Anthony smiles. "Did you go to school together?"

"Yeah," Lin replies easily.

Hamilton wonders if he should fear or be impressed with how easy it is for Lin to lie. "Lin was always a rambunctious one," Hamilton lies effortlessly, receiving a look from Lin. He seems impressed.

Anthony laughs loudly at this. "That sounds about right to me."

"What's so funny?" A blue-eyed man asks, slipping himself beside Anthony.

"Alex is Lin's childhood friend and can now provide us with blackmail on him," Anthony says with a wink in Hamilton's direction. Hamilton ignores the strange skip in his beating heart and smiles easily at Anthony.

"Whatever you would wish to know, I am willing to share." He receives a light shove from Lin, causing the two men in front of them to laugh.

"I'm Jon," the blonde says after subsiding his laughter. "It is most definitely a pleasure to meet you."

_John is a common name. Calm yourself, Alexander. Relax. Breathe..._

Hamilton grins. "Likewise." 

_This is what you deserve for being a sinner. Confusing conversations where you are forced to lie about yourself. You will never share the truth. You will never admit to the truth…_

"...right, Alex?" Lin looks at Hamilton with casual curiosity. The beginning of his question is left entirely unheard during Hamilton's internal crisis. He decides to smile and nod. You can never go wrong with such an action. It seems to be the right choice since everyone looks pleased with him.

_You used to have a mind of your own. Now you just keep your mouth shut to please others. What happened to you, Alexander?_

He finds himself stumbling away, ignoring the conversation Lin is engaged with between him and his friends. Hamilton puts his plate down on the stage as he sits on the edge of it. He stares out at the empty theatre, the seats waiting silently to be filled. If he had an audience watching him now, he would feel rather exposed and vulnerable.

“Hey, mind if I sit with you?” The woman who was holding the immaculate cake earlier approaches Hamilton with a smile, her question whispered underneath the loud crowd behind them.

“I don’t mind at all, please,” Hamilton says, gesturing to the stage floor beside him.

She sits down, her smile never faltering. “I’m Philippa. Everyone just calls me Pippa, though.”

“Alex. I am Lin’s _old_ friend,” Hamilton replies easily. He bows a little and takes her hand and kisses her knuckles. She blushes furiously and giggles uncontrollably, looking up at Lin who is approaching from the side. Hamilton releases her hand and grins at her, charming as ever.

“He’s very friendly,” Lin says with a hint of a nervous chuckle.

“I see that,” Pippa says, nervously tucking her hair behind her ear.

Hamilton smiles openly at her. “Goodness, you remind me so very much of my dear wife—”

“Hey, easy there, buddy!” Lin chuckles as he quickly pulls Hamilton to his feet. "Don't wanna bore poor Pippa..."

“Oh, you’re married?” Pippa asks, standing up and tilting her head at Lin’s odd antics.

“Yeah, he’s married.” Lin pointedly looks at Hamilton as he releases his arm. “Can I talk to you for a minute, Alex?”

“Of course,” Hamilton replies, looking back to Pippa. “Until we meet again, my dear.”

Pippa blushes. “Ah, yeah. See you later.”

Hamilton is dragged away backstage. “Hey, turns out there aren't any problems here. They literally called me to surprise me.”

“How kind of them,” Hamilton muses with a pleasant grin.

“Yeah, unfortunately, I had to drag you out here for no reason and now I don’t know how to get us _out_ _of_ _here_ without being rude.” Lin sighs, rubbing his face. “They bought me a cake!”

“That they did,” Hamilton replies slowly. “I do not mind having to _‘fit in,’_ as you say. Your friends do seem rather pleasant. I do wish, however, that I did not have to lie to them.”

“I know, and I’m sorry about that,” Lin says apologetically. “But they would think we’re both insane if we told them the truth — and we won’t make any progress on getting you home in a mental hospital.” Hamilton hums in agreement. “Although, it’s reassuring that they can see you. It proves that _I’m_ not crazy, at least,” Lin adds whilst scratching the back of his head sheepishly.

“There still is no real proof that I am not the crazy one here, but I suppose it is easier to go along and _‘fit in’_ with everyone,” Hamilton replies with a solemn shrug.

“Hey, whatcha whispering about back here?” A man says, startling both Hamilton and Lin as they did not see him coming. He has wild hair. “Lin, you didn’t properly introduce me to your friend, here. Jon and Ant say he knows shit about you.”

“Yeah, this is Alex,” Lin replies automatically. Hamilton hesitantly shakes the man’s hand. It feels... _strange_...shaking a black man’s hand as if they were on equal standing and not being looked down upon for being so. The future is very peculiar, but Hamilton finds himself surprisingly at ease here. Well, at least here with Lin and his friends.

“I’m Daveed. Nice to meet you,” the man says before they release their handshake. “Lin never mentioned you before?”

Hamilton looks at Lin expectantly, silently hoping he will explain so he does not have to lie anymore. “Yeah, uh, it’s a long story — how we met, I mean.”

“I slipped on ice,” Hamilton says, turning to Daveed. “Lin was the first and only person who saw me fall — he showed me nothing but kindness.” Lin stares at Hamilton for a long moment, smiling. Hamilton returns the grin easily. _As long as he stays close enough to the truth, he will surely no longer feel as guilty?_

“Oh, that’s adorable,” Daveed says with a matching grin to their own. “Well, it was nice to meet you, Alex. I hope we see more of you around here.”

Hamilton holds his smile as he looks over at Daveed, but it feels hollow. “It seems I am here to stay for now.”

 _Why is it that Hamilton feels a deep pit in his stomach as he speaks? Perhaps he worries that he is lying again. He may not just ‘be here for now.’ He may be here forever if this may be Purgatory or Hell. He deserves as such._ Hamilton stares at Daveed as he falls into an easy conversation with Lin. He was forced to shake hands with a man who he would most likely only meet through very _different_ circumstances in his own time. _Perhaps at the President’s estate, or even through his father-in-law as he aids with buying and selling_ — Hamilton suddenly feels very ill, his hands becoming clammy and his stomach lurching enough to possibly expel any sick from within.

Hamilton knows that he _definitely_ deserves to be in Purgatory or Hell if this is the case. He wonders why he is to be alone and nobody else he works with is here with him. _Surely they all have failed God as he? Perhaps he is vain in believing he cannot be the only one deserving of such. ‘I would not ever wish this upon my worst enemy. I am grateful it is only I who is lost in time...Not even Jefferson should bear such a burden…’_

“Alexander?” Hamilton blinks, snapping his head towards Lin who is frowning at him. They are alone again. “You okay? I said your name like three times.”

“Yes, my apologies, sir.” Lin’s frown deepens. “What was it you wanted to say?”

“Just that we can go home now — I mean, we can go back to _my_ place...house...whatever…” Lin says, mumbling his words into oblivion the longer he speaks.

Hamilton forces a curt nod. “Yes. Alright. Lead the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Forcing the plot to move along by making it so Lin still has to go to work even though he basically called in sick? _No, me?_ I would never try to force things to happen like that...*
> 
> Thank you everyone for your wonderful feedback! I was thrilled to see how much you lovely people are enjoying this fanfic! I hope to have the next chapter ready at some point next week! (:
> 
> That passage where Hamilton is begging John to join him in Congress is from his final letter to John Laurens. (Not So Fun Fact: It is believed that John Laurens never got a chance to read the letter as he may have joined his final battle before the letter made it to him...) Here's the link to the letter: https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Hamilton/01-03-02-0058
> 
> A fun book cover I made: https://peblezq.tumblr.com/post/628323913526558720/httpsarchiveofourownorgworks26282251chapters
> 
> A fun comic based on this fic I made: https://peblezq.tumblr.com/post/630062298895106048/that-awkward-moment-when-alexander-hamilton


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to start off this chapter with my formal apology for taking so darn long to post it! I started writing this chapter before I even posted the last one but it took me so long to finish this for a number of reasons:  
> 1) because I randomly started hating everything I wrote and I kept re-working and editing until it felt right.  
> 2) because I wrote in my outline how this chapter was gonna start and end - and for the in-between stuff, I wrote, and I quote: "Idk, lol? Future me can figure it out." So I spent quite some time pondering wtf I should do to connect point (a) to point (b) _if you know what I mean...?_ If I could travel through time like Hamilton in this fic, I'd slap my past self for leaving me with such a vague note in my outline.  
> 3) because...work...and I've just been tired.
> 
> Anywho, your comments gave me life while working on this chapter. Thank you, everyone, who bookmarked, left a kudos, and/or commented!

Lin has been in full-panic-mode since he left his apartment with Hamilton. He is certain that he hasn’t sweat this much since he was a hormonal teenager. He feels like he’s babysitting a toddler, watching behind his back every few seconds to make sure Hamilton hasn’t strayed too far away or said anything incriminating. The man is a social butterfly — every time Lin turns around, Hamilton somehow ends up in a conversation with someone. He can’t let him talk to anyone for too long. 

He has to translate everything he says to Hamilton in the most basic level of English so he doesn’t accidentally confuse the man. Hamilton is brilliant, but since there are two centuries between their times, they tend to have a differing vocabulary. Their slang is different — so is their grammar. Sometimes, Lin wonders if Hamilton is also holding back and they’ve both receded into speaking in the easiest level of English for each other.

After Daveed finally leaves them alone, he turns to Hamilton. “Hey, Hamilton — are you ready to go?” The man doesn’t respond. His eyes seem glazed over as he stares straight ahead; deep in thought most likely.

“Hamilton?” Nothing. Hamilton’s eyebrows furrow deeper a moment later, his eyes still focused on something in the middle-distance.

“Alexander?” That gets his attention; Hamilton blinks quickly and snaps his head towards Lin. “You okay? I said your name like three times,” Lin says with a frown.

“Yes, my apologies, sir.” Lin’s frown deepens. _Why is he calling Lin ‘sir’ again when he specifically asked Hamilton not to do that?_ “What was it you wanted to say?” Lin hates the stiff formalities coming from Hamilton. He seems to have a ton of deep-seated issues that he continuously buries for some unknown reason. Lin wishes he would stop being so...robotic. _Maybe it’s just a defence mechanism to trauma? Or maybe Hamilton doesn’t feel comfortable around Lin just yet. If that was the case, then why would Hamilton reveal such a dark thought this morning about all of this being some cosmic punishment? If it is a punishment, it’s not just one for Hamilton. Lin feels like he is also being punished for some reason._

“Just that we can go home now — I mean, we can go back to _my_ place...house...whatever…” Lin says, mumbling his words at the end.

Hamilton nods, his jaw noticeably tensing. “Yes. Alright. Lead the way.”

Lin starts walking towards the exit, hoping to avoid anyone else. “Hey, Lin!” Leslie calls, shattering Lin’s hopes of leaving peacefully without any more disruptions.

“Hey—” Lin drags the word a little too long. “Sup?”

“Are you headed out already? You haven’t even had some of the cake yet!” Leslie asks, tilting his head. Lin wants so desperately to scream in agony.

“Yeah, sorry. It’s just — not a great day. Something’s going on and…” Lin does not know how to finish that sentence.

Leslie’s eyes trail towards Hamilton as he frowns at Lin’s statement. “What’s wrong. Is it anything I can help with?”

Lin realizes that he _actually does_ want someone’s help, but he is afraid they won’t be able to help him properly; nobody will believe him. _‘Oh hey, I just have to find out how to build a time machine or open a time portal to send Alexander Hamilton back to the year seventeen-ninety-four! Could you help me?’_ Is not a very normal thing to ask someone.

“No, I’m fine. We’re fine.” Lin hates how unconvincing he sounds. _He’s a better actor than this, surely?_ “I’ve been stressed, but seeing an old friend is helping a ton,” Lin adds. He can’t figure out if this is a lie or not. On one hand, it is amazing to meet Alexander Hamilton. On the other hand, he has been even more stressed since the guy _literally_ fell in front of him straight from the past last night.

“Ahh, yes. Alex, right?” Leslie inquires casually while gazing suspiciously at Hamilton. He knows Leslie’s not convinced — of what exactly, he isn’t certain. He just knows Leslie seems cautious as hell around Hamilton.

“Yes.” Hamilton shakes Leslie’s hand eagerly. “It truly is a pleasure to meet all of Lin’s friends,” Hamilton replies easily — effortlessly. If being aide-de-camp, a lieutenant colonel, a lawyer, or the first treasury secretary did not work out so well for him, Hamilton would have made a brilliant actor. He knows how to use the truth to his advantage and somehow simultaneously _hides_ the truth.

Lin has a feeling Hamilton is barely keeping himself together but he is doing a fantastic job pretending he is fine. _Does he always do that? Is this what Alexander Hamilton is really like? Pretending everything is okay while everything is chaos?_ _History can't document that._

"Hey, glad I caught you before you left! Does your friend Alex want some cake?" Chris calls out cheerfully with two plates of cake in each hand. _Lin is a playwright, not a murderer. Lin is a playwright, not a murderer. Lin is a playwright, not a murderer—_

"No thank you," Hamilton replies politely, waving his hands gently and then looking at Lin with wide, vulnerable eyes. _Lin has to get Hamilton out of here…_

"Sorry, gotta run! Thanks anyway, Chris!" Lin says hurriedly, standing behind Hamilton and ushering the shorter man past a very confused Leslie and Chris. "I really appreciate the surprise, you guys. I'm sorry I spoiled it but we have to go! Bye!" Lin adds over his shoulder way-too-quickly before they cut a corner. He accidentally pushes Hamilton into Rene. _Lin wants to throw himself off of a cliff._

"My apologies!" Hamilton yelps sheepishly.

Rene waves him off with a smile. "Hey, not a problem at all. It's not your fault Lin was shoving you around a sharp corner." Rene winks cheekily and Hamilton chuckles.

Lin feels his face heat up with frustration and embarrassment. "My bad. Sorry, we're in a rush. I promised to take Ham—Alex sightseeing and we're gonna be late for our reservation!"

Rene raises a brow. "I thought you were sick?"

Lin decides to play it cool. "What?" 

"Javier said that you asked him to cover you tonight? He suggested we shouldn't call you in for the surprise because you weren't feeling well, but apparently, they bought you a cake last night. I assumed you were sick?"

"I am!" Lin feels like he might throw up. "I mean —" Lin sighs, deciding he should just tell as much of the truth as possible. "Alex showed up very suddenly late last night — technically early this morning — and it's kind of an emergency but nothing I wanted to drop on you guys. Sorry, it's just, you guys got me a cake and pizza and it was really sweet but I just really have to go and—"

"Lin, hey, slow down!" Rene waves him off with a gentle chuckle. Lin didn't realize he was rambling until he stopped talking so suddenly. "It's fine. Go. I'll let the others know what happened. Take care of your shit. Javier said he's got you covered for tonight."

Lin sighs with relief. He is grateful to have such an understanding cast. They're more than just people he works with — they've become a second family.

"Thanks, Rene." Lin smiles as he ushers Hamilton away. "I owe all of you big time for this."

"Yeah, yeah — I know I'm amazing." Rene smiles with her hands on her hips, her body turning to follow the two retreating men. "Oh, and it was nice to meet you, Alex!"

"Likewise, Miss Rene!" Hamilton replies before Lin drags him down another hallway.

* * *

Surprisingly, Hamilton doesn't have to be dragged back to Lin's apartment. He seems to remember what turns to make and what subway stop is the correct one. Lin would never admit it out loud, but this man never ceases to amaze him. The guy has an incredible sense of direction for someone from roughly 230 years ago.

Lin lingers back in his strides, watching Hamilton walk confidently down the street, looking at each building before stopping in front of the correct one and turning to face Lin expectantly. Lin can't help himself — he has to ask. "How did you remember where I live?" He doesn't intend to sound so breathless when he asks this, but it's delivered that way and he can't take it back now.

Hamilton lifts an eyebrow before looking up at the building. His expression changes as he stares at it for a beat before facing Lin again. He seems puzzled. "Landmarks."

Lin blinks vacantly. "I—What?"

"It's how I used to keep track of where we were back in the war," Hamilton replies nonchalantly. "When we would march to a new encampment, I would remember landmarks — specific trees or buildings. Anything I can recall. I only did so to pass by the time, but it was deemed rather useful when it came to reading maps and having an idea of how far British troops were from us just by counting how many minutes it takes them to march from one tree to a particular rock, for example." Hamilton seems very calm as he explains this, almost relieved. "I use landmarks, as well, to understand how I may find my way through new cities that I am living in. When I am somewhere new, I focus on _anything_ that I can file away so I never find myself lost. I cannot purely rely on you, Lin."

Lin smiles at this. Hamilton _is_ smarter than he gives him credit for. Knowing what he does about Hamilton's life, it makes sense why he would need to do something like this. He was alone for a long time, only able to rely on himself and nobody else. He adapts like a chameleon.

Even just looking at Hamilton standing in front of Lin's building — his copper-blonde hair tied with a modern elastic, a black baseball cap, a purple tee-shirt, dark blue jeans, and Lin's old converse on his feet — he actually blends in very well. Hamilton looks like he belongs here with a confident smile gracing his freckled cheeks.

Lin unlocks the door to his building and holds the door for Hamilton before entering behind him. He hears Hamilton sigh quietly as they walk through the foyer. The heat outside is thick and the contrast to the air conditioning inside his building is most likely reliving for his time-travelling companion.

Once they are back inside his apartment, Hamilton immediately walks towards the bathroom. Lin watches him close the door behind him from the hallway before he enters the kitchen. He pours two glasses of water and brings them to the coffee table in his living room before sitting down.

He pulls out his phone and scrolls through it — Googling anything he can on time travel from DeLoreans to wormholes and then playing a short video describing what the Grandfather Paradox is. Lin's mouth tugs down in the corner as he reads about more paradoxes.

If paradoxes were a problem, he feels like something more serious should have happened already. He decides to look up any online forums, from Reddit to even Yahoo Answers, looking for any views on time travel he can find.

It's all theoretical, of course, which infuriates Lin even further. _How is he supposed to send Hamilton back to the past if nobody has a straight answer for him?_

He looks up when he hears Hamilton re-entering the room and frowns when he sees the man wearing his own clothes instead of the ones Lin gave to him for the day. He seems to be missing the jackets — only wearing his shirt, pants, stockings, shoes, cravat tie, and vest. He has even re-tied his hair with the ribbon and has removed the elastic.

"I thought you would want to be more comfortable," Lin comments lamely as he flops his phone on the couch beside him.

"That is why I changed into my clothes," Hamilton replies with a curious gaze as he strides across the room, sitting in the armchair across from Lin beside the TV. Lin realizes he must have accidentally shown his minor disappointment because Hamilton frowns at him. "I did not intend to offend you — I graciously appreciate your help — but I much prefer my clothes as they were fitted for myself." Hamilton pauses. "And if I may be blunt — polyester is a very uncomfortable fabric."

Lin snorts, shaking his head and smiling. "Yeah, alright. That's fair. They don't really make clothes like they used to. It's mass-produced and it never fits properly." 

Hamilton looks like Lin just murdered his puppy, his eyes wide with an aghast expression. "Good Lord. In many ways, the world has improved and has also failed miserably."

Lin actually laughs out loud this time. "Oh man, you don't even know the half of it yet, my friend."

Hamilton smiles, seemingly amused before resting his arms on his legs and leaning forward in his seat. He looks comfortable now, casual, but his clothes are a painful reminder to Lin that he should not be sitting there. He secretly wishes Hamilton didn't change just so Lin can pretend for a short time that Hamilton actually fits there. "So, what are we to do about my predicament?"

"Ah, yeah, about that—" Lin picks up his phone again. "I've been searching all over the internet for anything I could on time travel. The good news is there is a lot to look through. The bad news is that it's all just talk about theory and philosophy."

Hamilton frowns. He does a lot of that and Lin wishes he would stop disappointing and confusing him. "I—what is the internet?"

_How does he even begin to explain that?_

"Uh, well you can access it on a cell phone," Lin says, wiggling said device in his hand as he speaks. "It's like a virtual archive of information? People can also communicate with each other on it and even read the news. A lot of it is fake, though, so you have to be careful since you don't know what is real and isn't."

Hamilton nods slowly, his face scrunched in concentration. "And you could not find anything other than theory or philosophy about time travel on this... _internet_?"

"Nope," Lin says, popping the _'p'_ loudly to emphasize his disappointment. "Everyone thinks time travel isn't real. Honestly, I was in the same boat as them until...well…" Lin gestures vaguely in Hamilton's direction.

"Hmm, I see your point," Hamilton replies, his lips pursing as he leans back in the seat. He rubs a hand across his face before resting his elbow on the armrest, propping his chin up as he stares at the floor.

Lin looks back at his phone after a moment, realizing Hamilton has nothing else to say on the matter. He stares at a gif of a scene from Back To The Future on the Reddit thread he was looking at before, watching the blue lightning surrounding the car as it hits eighty-eight miles-per-hour.

"The weather." Hamilton sits up straight at the sound of Lin's voice, looking at Lin with a brow lifted curiously. Lin stares at Hamilton as he continues his thought out loud. "You appeared in a flashing blue light. Kinda like lighting."

"The weather was terrible that morning," Hamilton says, standing up and beginning to pace as he seems to be on the same page as Lin. "The rain was pelting nearly horizontal against the house. The lightning and thunder were near-constant." Lin's eyes follow Hamilton as the man continues pacing. "I remember thinking it was very odd weather for December."

"That _is_ odd weather for December," Lin replies. "Especially for Philadelphia."

"Was there a storm here yesterday? Before I appeared?" Hamilton asks, halting in his incessant pacing.

Lin stares at the wall behind Hamilton, his face noticeably scrunching as he thinks about yesterday as much as he can. He was so tired and burned out, he can't even recall what he ate yesterday. _Did he even consume anything other than water and coffee?_

"I don't remember the weather throughout the day, but I know the night, minutes before you appeared, was clear. Then I heard thunder and _poof_ , you fell in front of me in a flashing blue light." Hamilton hums in response to Lin's recollection before pacing again, his hand working at his chin. Lin wonders if Hamilton is always like this when he thinks. _Did he pace a lot during the war? Did he pace while working on the Federalist Papers? Did he pace when working on a law case? Did he pace while building the nation's treasury from scratch? Did he pace when writing a letter to his wife, his friends, or coworkers?_

"The only common occurrence between our situations is the thunder and the blue lightning," Hamilton says after taking a few steps. He pivots and turns around to pace in the opposite direction as he continues. "Why would it bring me _here?_ I was not in New York at the time. Would it have not taken me to Philadelphia in twenty-sixteen instead?"

Lin grabs his phone out of habit and turns it on to see that same Back To The Future gif. "Most time travel stories have the person ending up in the same location, but in a different time," Lin says, looking up at Hamilton who has decided to stop pacing again. "But sometimes time travel stories, I think, might have people going to different places as well as a different time. Like wormholes."

"Wormholes?"

"Like a portal or doorway but through space-and-time. A shortcut through the universe," Lin explains. "At least that's how Google and sci-fi films describe wormholes."

"And how does a wormhole appear?" Hamilton asks.

Lin frowns. "How the fuck would I know? I just write musicals and perform them."

"We only have theories to work with, Lin." Hamilton's lips pinch as he folds his arms over his chest. "Use your creative mind to make your own explanation."

Lin shrugs. "Maybe they're like rips or tears in the universe?"

"Tears?" Hamilton asks with a lifted brow.

"Like, maybe the lightning was a rip and you accidentally slipped through it?" Lin explains, not entirely convinced of himself. He stands up and grabs a flyer and a pen from the kitchen counter before standing in front of Hamilton, holding it up in demonstration. He slices the pen through the flyer, creating a tear in the center. "This paper is the universe," Lin says, then holds up the pen on Hamilton's side of the paper. "This pen is you." Lin shoves the pen through the tear and it falls out on Lin's side. "You fell through to my side of the tear." Lin wiggles the paper. "We can't see this. We can only see the tear itself for a second."

"As blue flashing light," Hamilton adds, his blue eyes staring deeply into Lin's dark eyes.

Lin slowly smiles as he realizes, for the first time, that they finally understand each other. "Yes. Exactly."

Hamilton's lips tug downward. "How would a tear become lightning? Would it not be a hole?"

Lin scratches his head, turning to place the flyer on the coffee table and picking up his glass of water. "Maybe holes in the universe are more abstract than that. I saw a movie once where a black hole looked like a planet. Like a sphere instead of a hole."

Hamilton sighs. "I do not know what a black hole is."

Lin practically falls on his couch, slouching and groaning. "This is impossible. How are we supposed to get anything accomplished when we don't have the same knowledge?"

Hamilton gives Lin a crooked smile. "If we had the exact same level of intellect, we would not proceed any further. We need to figure out how to work through this with what we have."

Lin stares up at Hamilton. "Do you know anything about the universe?"

Hamilton sits beside Lin on the couch, his eyebrows furrowing in thought. "Hmm, not quite enough to figure out time travel. What of you?"

Lin lifts an eyebrow. "I don't know shit about space or time travel."

Hamilton sighs but gives Lin a tired smile. "You seemed to know enough moments ago when we were discussing tears in the universe."

"That's just based on some questionable theories I read on the internet," Lin grumbles. "I'm afraid I was the worst person to offer you any help."

Hamilton's smile grows more genuine as he places a hand on Lin's shoulder. "I still appreciate that you even offered to help, dear boy."

Lin doesn't comment on the fact that Hamilton just called him _'dear boy'._ There is only one person he knows for sure that Hamilton has ever called that, and that person was his best friend. _Maybe Hamilton already considers Lin a good friend because of his hospitality?_ _He does not come across as the type of person to befriend others easily._ _Maybe he's just trying to find some form of comfort since Lin is the only one who knows about his situation and he is the only one who will not throw the poor guy in a mental institution after hearing his story?_ Lin needs alcohol but decides against that as well.

"Let's sit here and read about time travel, wormholes, and anything else that could possibly help until we either fall asleep or stop to eat," Lin suggests with a tilted head. "I promise that I will not rest until you are home safe."

Hamilton nods in agreement, his features twisting into something unreadable. 

* * *

Lin startles awake, his neck stiff and immensely sore. He blinks the blurriness from his vision, rolling his neck until the pain dulls into something more bearable. The sun is completely absent; the only light spilling into his living room is from the artificial lights of New York. The sun was nearing its decent last he remembers — in fact, Lin doesn't recall ever falling asleep, but he does remember sitting on his couch with Hamilton, studying anything they can find on time travel.

Lin freezes when he realizes why he woke up so abruptly. Hamilton is sitting beside him, his head resting near Lin's on the back of the couch. His left hand is clawing into Lin's thigh whilst his head is flipping back and forth — he's breathing rapidly and sweating profusely. It takes Lin another embarrassingly long moment to realize Hamilton is still asleep, but he is restless. Hamilton's jaw is so clenched that Lin worries for the poor man's teeth and his features are twisted into a strange mixture of exhaustion and possibly fear.

"No…" Hamilton mumbles under his breath, his low voice sounding deafeningly loud in the silent apartment.

Lin cautiously places his right hand on top of the hand that is gripping his leg _painfully_ tight. "Hamilton?" Lin speaks softly, shaking the man with his left hand. Hamilton continues mumbling incoherently in his sleep, his head thrashing about and his breathing laboured. Lin frowns with concern. "Alexander?" He speaks louder this time, keeping his tone gentle.

"No, I will not!" Hamilton suddenly shouts, startling Lin enough to shift away from the man. Hamilton looks furious now, his teeth bared and his breathing laboured. "I will not stand to watch you die! _Not again!"_ Hamilton shouts, his left hand on Lin's thigh somehow gripping even tighter now.

Lin wines in pain and grabs Hamilton's hand, helplessly trying to tug it out of his titanium grip. "Fuck! Hamilton, wake up!" Lin shouts in pain as he fails at pulling his hand away. "It's just a dream! Wake up!"

Hamilton's eyes shoot open as he gasps for air. He pulls his hands to his face as he leans forward like someone on a rollercoaster that comes to a painfully abrupt stop. Lin is panting with Hamilton, rubbing his sore leg, his frown deepening and his concern for Hamilton grows.

"Hamilton? Are you alright?" Lin whispers gently.

Hamilton turns his head towards Lin, his eyes are wide, vulnerable, and visibly glossy with unshed tears. His gaze flickers towards Lin's hand rubbing soothing circles into his thigh. "Dear lord! Have I injured you?"

"My leg will be fine," Lin says sharply. "I'm more concerned about you. You were yelling in your sleep and panting like a dog."

Hamilton sighs, his shoulders sagging. "My deepest apologies, Lin. You should not have had to witness this..."

Lin leans forward, removing his hand from his thigh to place it on Hamilton's shoulder. "Hey, it's alright. I'm fine. You should never have to apologize for having a nightmare."

Hamilton visibly shudders, as if his muscles are beginning to spasm after being tense for so long. He sighs again before chancing a glance at Lin. "Thank you."

Lin offers a smile he hopes is soothing and not a grimace. _His leg might bruise tomorrow where Hamilton squeezed it._ "Do you need some water? Maybe something to eat?"

Hamilton shakes his head in a strange jerking motion, his eyes trained on some spot on the carpet like it is the most important thing in the world. "It has been a long time since I have had nightmares like this consecutively for a few days…"

Lin frowns. "Consecutively?" Lin asks before swallowing the large amount of saliva that has suddenly appeared in his mouth. "How many nightmares have you had recently?"

Hamilton's brows scrunch together. "The first was the night before the morning I appeared here — in the future — and has occurred every time I have attempted sleep since then…" Hamilton's voice is hollow and quiet.

Lin considers this. "Maybe it's just the stress?"

Hamilton does not shift in his position. Lin is almost sure Hamilton didn't hear him until Hamilton's gravelly voice breaks the odd silence. "Perhaps…"

Lin doesn't push him any further. He shifts away to grab his phone that has fallen onto the couch beside him at some point. "It's three in the morning. We must have dozed off at some point after supper. "Lin's eyes drag across his living room — it's a disaster of papers as if a storm has strewn them about everywhere. Hamilton insisted on hand-writing their notes, and Lin tries not to flinch at the memory of how intimidated he felt watching Hamilton scribble relentlessly. Lin silently hopes he can get all of this cleaned up before his wife returns home on Monday — the mess of papers and the mess of a man on the couch beside him.

Hamilton stands up abruptly and grabs the scattered notes they have been working on all day. "We must return to our work. I am sure we will figure out what to do soon."

"No offence, but we literally made zero progress," Lin mumbles, rubbing his right eye tiredly. "Maybe we should just turn in for the night and continue in the morning."

"No," Hamilton growls sharply. Lin stares at him with wide eyes. "You may retire if you wish — you have already aided me greatly. I cannot begin to imagine asking more of you, Lin," Hamilton says with a sad smile.

Lin stands up. "You still need to sleep, Hamilton."

Hamilton's cheek twitches, an obvious sign that he's clenching his teeth behind his closed lips. "I have so much work to do…" he mutters in response.

Lin does not know how to reply to that. His brain is fried, so he opts to just nod solemnly and shuffle towards the hallway. He stops in the archway between the hall and living room and watches Hamilton sit in the armchair, scribbling notes on new sheets of paper — already hard at work. He grips the wood trim before turning down the hall and to his bedroom.

Lin sighs as he falls on his bed. He deserves _a_ _fucking vacation_ after all of this blows over, and so does Hamilton. However, knowing that man, he would never take one. ' _That man is just non-stop.'_ He can't find the energy to laugh or groan at his _terrible_ thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys liked it! There was a lot of the inevitable (and unavoidable) ~dissuccions of time travel~ that I had to get out of the way, so I hope this chapter wasn't boring or confusing, aha. Just a very plot-based chapter filled with planting seeds in a garden we might possibly get to see later on... ;p
> 
> Again; I am so sorry this chapter took so long to finish. It's roughly 4.5k words and it was almost so much _more_ before I decided to cut it off at the end since y'all have already waited long enough for this chapter. I hope to post at least one chapter per week from now on, but if I ever take longer, just trust that I am not giving up on this story. Imagine me sitting at my PC or on my phone, writing and re-writing it until it feels perfect because that is totally what I did the whole time, aha
> 
> The next part is gonna be so long that I might split it into two or three chapters. I'm not gonna promise when it will be up, but I can promise that it is coming! ;p I'm having way too much fun with this idea to give up on it!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the 10k chapter...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re back! — and with a chapter that is _way too long_. This chapter was gonna be even longer, so I cut it in half... _*shrugs*_  
>  I got sick halfway through writing this chapter (not the 2020 disease — just a cold) but after sleeping for like 12 hours, I decided to write out of pure boredom because my brain is just non-stop.
> 
> If there are any errors, blame my illness for overlooking them while editing.  
> Thanks for the bookmarks, kudos, and comments! They’re greatly appreciated!
> 
> OH! Also, please take a gander at this amazing piece of fanart for this story that someone made! I am obsessed with it! Just, ahhhhhhhhhh! I can’t believe someone drew fanart for my fic!  
> https://fiaistired.tumblr.com/post/631544450080980992/well-so-i-decided-to-draw-more-like-doodle-i

Hamilton looks up from his notes when he hears footsteps in the hallway; the sun has risen several hours ago. He believes he has a stronger grasp on their solar system — knowing the names of every planet — and knowing too much about black holes and wormholes. Hamilton does not know what he will use this information for if he ever manages to return home, but he was never one to reject expanding his knowledge.

Lin trudge's into the living room, absently rubbing his right thigh, and ignoring Hamilton as he walks into the _'kitchen'_ and opens the _'refrigerator'_. Hamilton grabs Lin's cell phone and approaches the counter that separates the two rooms. 

"You have forgotten your cell phone, leaving it on the sofa again last night," Hamilton says after Lin places the pitcher of orange juice on the counter. He hands over the cell phone and Lin immediately begins tapping on it with his thumbs.

"Thanks," Lin mumbles tiredly as he slips the object into his pocket. He stretches up to open the cupboards above his head. "Do you want some orange juice?"

Hamilton forces a smile. "Yes, thank you." Lin places two cups on the counter and Hamilton stares at them. "I was wondering if you could teach me how to use the internet? I wish to do more research on the subject of time travel…" Hamilton looks up as Lin pauses in his motions of pouring the beverage into the cup. "If it is not too much trouble to do so," Hamilton adds timidly under his breath.

Lin blinks, unmoving for a beat too long. "Um...I — uhhh—" Lin places the pitcher down as he stammers sheepishly. "Yeah. I could try to show you how to use it, I guess. I think I have a tablet somewhere that you can use…" Lin trails off his words as he busies himself with his task again.

Hamilton stares at Lin as he pours the drinks; the dark-haired man's eyes are trained on his mediocre duty. Hamilton exhales deeply. "What is it?"

Lin looks up at him. "What is what?"

Hamilton rolls his eyes. "Something is bothering you. What is it?"

Lin purses his lips as he finishes pouring the juice into the two small cups; he slides one of them across the counter, closer to Hamilton. "I just...I don't know if you should know this much about the future. If paradoxes are an issue we need to consider, I'm afraid the universe will self-destruct or something if you learn how to navigate the internet."

Hamilton lifts a brow curiously. " _Self-destruct_? I highly doubt the universe could do such a thing."

Lin tugs his lips into a slanted angle, his expression unreadable to Hamilton. "I didn't think Alexander Hamilton could travel through time and appear in front of me on my walk home from work." Hamilton's eyebrows furrow as he chews his bottom lip, resisting the urge to frown. "The universe is unpredictable is all I'm saying."

Hamilton stares at the orange juice in front of him. He grips the cup, holding it in place on the counter. "I suppose your point is valid — however, I feel the universe does not quite function in any way we assumed before this _incident_ occurred." Hamilton takes a quick swig of the juice before slapping the cup on the counter again. "I believe my being here, in front of you, drinking your orange juice, is a paradox. If you teach me how to use this _'internet'_ and the universe _'self-destructs'_ , as you say, then, by all means, you have my permission to punch me in Hell," Hamilton adds whilst gazing into Lin's eyes; they are as dark as night — _as dark as Eliza's—_

Lin interrupts his unusual train of thought with his boisterous laughter filling the room. The crow's feet at the corners of his eyes are prominent and his smile is bigger and brighter than life. Hamilton cannot resist the smile that escapes past his walls.

"Thanks for giving me permission to punch you. I'll hold you to that," Lin says, his tone light-hearted and his smile nowhere near fading.

Hamilton takes another sip of juice before speaking again. "Now I must know — what the hell is a tablet?"

Lin snorts in his cup, coughing as he pulls it away. "I'm about to teach you _so much_ useless information, it's not even funny." Lin's eyes seem bright, even with their dark shade as he looks at Hamilton. "Just you wait…" Lin adds before taking another sip of his drink. He seems to be attempting to hide a secret smile behind the translucent cup. Hamilton hums noncommittally as he takes another sip, watching Lin as he does so.

* * *

Hamilton holds Lin's _'tablet'_ in his left hand, squinting his eyes as he reads the article on the screen. He blinks a few times before finally deciding to pull his spectacles out of his inner chest pocket of his waistcoat, slipping them onto his nose before readjusting his reading position; he is deeply grateful for always leaving a backup pair in his waistcoat whenever he dresses in the morn. Hamilton pushes his right index finger on the _'screen'_ , dragging it upwards as Lin had instructed him to do. He smiles to himself as the _'screen'_ moves up with his finger, revealing the rest of the article.

He flickers his gaze upwards and lifts a bewildered brow at Lin who is openly gaping at him intensely. Lin seemingly snaps out of a trance when Hamilton's eyes lock with his, however, and Lin shuffles on the sofa, looking at his cell phone — _'you can just call it a phone, Hamilton,' Lin had told him._

"Is everything alright?" Hamilton inquires as he places his eyeglasses and the tablet beside each other on the coffee table.

Lin hums aloofly, lifting a brow and ostensibly refusing to peel his eyes away from his _'phone'_. "Yeah, just reading this weird debate about the ethics of time travel between two people on Reddit."

Hamilton nods automatically and refuses to frown in confusion. He abhors feeling like an imbecile around this man. He is still trying to not be offended at the prospect that Lin was in utter disbelief yesterday over the fact that Hamilton has a sense of direction. "What do they have to say?" Hamilton asks instead of asking, ' _what the fuck is Reddit!?'_

Lin sits up, leaning forward and keeping his eyes locked on his phone outstretched in front of him. "Well, the user _b1tch_boi39_ says that time travel isn't worth an ethical discussion because there isn't anything spiritual against it. If it's possible, the time traveller has free reign to do whatever the hell they want."

Hamilton blinks, his thoughts seeming to be absolutely blank. "I see…"

"But the other user, _d0nt_stop_m3_now_ , says that the time traveller should tread lightly on their journey. That they shouldn't fuck with the timeline and risk changing the past," Lin continues with a shrug of his shoulders. He finally looks up at Hamilton. "And they've been arguing over whether paradoxes even exist for the rest of the thread so far."

"And you agree with — what was it you said — the user _d0nt_stop_m3_now_?" Hamilton asks, folding his arms over his chest.

"I mean, I don't know anymore. You kinda made a solid point earlier — about how you being here in-it-of-itself is _technically_ a paradox. And look at you, using my tablet and the universe is still intact!" Lin's smile is crooked and his posture is terrible as he speaks — _'well, his posture is worse than usual,'_ Hamilton silently thinks to himself.

Hamilton responds with only a low hum before slipping his eyeglasses on his face again and picking up the tablet.

"What are you reading over there?" Lin asks suddenly, and it occurs to Hamilton that the man seems eager to continue their conversation.

"I have been reading about portals and wormholes. This writer also suggests that time is not a line, but rather like snowflakes — occurring simultaneously — falling at once." Hamilton flickers his eyes at Lin; the man seems perplexed. "And if time is like snowflakes and not a line, then it would explain why time travel could _theoretically_ exist," Hamilton adds with a snort. "Although, you and I are well aware this is not theoretical."

Lin smiles strangely. "Yeah." He looks down at his phone. "That kinda makes sense when you put it like that."

Hamilton stares at Lin, contemplating the reasons behind why he seems bothered. Lin's natural state comes across as always being tense — but especially so, today. Instead of digging further for information on Lin's thoughts, Hamilton busies himself again, closing the article and typing a new topic in the _'Google search bar'._

Hamilton hesitates as the _'keyboard'_ appears, chancing a glance at Lin. The man is focused on his phone, unaware of what Hamilton is considering to search. He looks at the tablet again, frowning, and begins tapping the _'keys'_ he requires, attempting to neutralize his features.

He stares at the words he has slowly _'typed'_ into the _'Google'_ : **_[Alexander Hamilton]_ **

This is the very thing he has dreaded since Lin has taught him how to use the internet. Lin never mentioned it, but he _knows_ that Lin does not want Hamilton researching himself. This could have terrible repercussions — if not for the universe, then for his own sanity.

He is well-aware that he must have died at some mysterious point in history, but he cannot begin to fathom finding out _how_ or _why_ . Hamilton grasps the tablet with both hands, his gaze never faltering from the words on the screen. All he has to do is tap the _'search'_ button — as Lin has instructed him to do — but he cannot find the willpower to move his hands from their grip on the device.

Before he can make a decision, he hears Lin groan from the sofa. "Ah, fuck!" Lin growls, his voice laced with clear frustration.

Hamilton quickly taps the _'backspace button'_ until the _'search bar'_ is vacant of the incriminating evidence from his morbid curiosity. He looks up at Lin expectantly, silently hoping that his features do not express how hard his heart is pounding in his chest. "What is the matter?"

"I totally forgot about the cast lunch today!" Lin grumbles bitterly, his hand lazily tossing his phone on the sofa beside his person. He rubs his now vacant hand against his face, clear exhaustion overtaking him. "Fuck me. Why does everything have to be happening at once?"

Hamilton's features twist into clear discomfort. He gently places the tablet on the coffee table. "When do you have to leave for your lunch?"

Lin sighs dejectedly. "Three minutes ago…"

Hamilton pinches his lips into a straight line. "Oh."

"Yeah…" Lin drags the word as he exhales deeply, leaning back into the sofa and staring up at the ceiling. "I don't know how to juggle my life and help you at the same time."

"Do not ignore your life on my account, Lin," Hamilton says, tilting his head. "Please, attend your lunch. I will be fine right here. You taught me how to use your tablet and the internet."

"I mean, you have to eat, too," Lin replies, his head still resting on the back of the sofa as his eyelids flutter lowly, his gaze now locked onto Hamilton instead of the ceiling.

"I—" he cannot respond. _What was he to say to that? 'I can do without eating. Besides, I am capable of preparing a meal for myself.'_ Hamilton is well-aware that he cannot do either. His stomach betrays him, grumbling noisily and appearing to respond for him.

"You're totally welcome to join me. I don't think they'll mind. I actually think you left a good impression," Lin says as he sits up, resting his elbows on his thighs and leaning forward; closer to Hamilton with only but a coffee table between the two of them.

"I have barely made an impression upon your colleagues," Hamilton mumbles meeker than originally intended. "Especially since we fled in such a hurry, yesterday."

Lin waves him off before standing up. "Nah. C'mon, let's get you dressed for the future and get something to eat. The restaurant is only three subway stops away."

Hamilton resists the urge to groan in abject distaste. He _despises_ wearing such clothing and riding the subway, but Lin needn't know this. He longingly desires to continue researching, but Lin is persistent with his invitation, and it would not be quite gentlemanly to turn down such an offer from the man who is ruining his own life in an attempt to aid Hamilton. He already has enough guilt to carry upon his shoulders, he shall not add to it.

* * *

Hamilton attempted to give any excuse he could to avoid joining Lin on his lunch. The excuses ranged from: _'I truly am not hungry!'_ to _'What of our secret? Do you trust that they will not surely find out that I am Alexander Hamilton?'_

The last excuse had actually caused Lin to pause, but he eventually shrugged it away, replying with, _'ehh, I think I'd rather not leave you out of my sight for too long. Besides, you fooled them yesterday. If anything, they would expect me to bring my mysterious friend along with me.'_

And so to lunch together they went. Hamilton blinks up at the restaurant as they approach the doors. The buildings in the future tower exceedingly high, and he silently ponders what on earth all of that space could be used for. After entering the establishment, Hamilton and Lin are escorted to a large table with all of the people Hamilton had met the day previous.

"Hey, look who finally decided to show up!" Anthony yells from his seat, his smile beaming towards Lin. "Alex! Nice to see you again, bro! You can sit next to me!" Anthony adds whilst patting the chair beside him. It seems they have two empty seats at the table. They truly _were_ expecting him to come, just as Lin had assumed. Hamilton attempts to shove away the warmth enveloping his chest as he takes the seat offered to him, allowing a polite smile to grace upon his lips.

"I hope I am not intruding," Hamilton murmurs to Anthony as Lin takes the seat across from Hamilton.

"No way!" Anthony slaps a hand on Hamilton's shoulder, causing him to wince. "Any friend of Lin's is a friend of ours!"

Hamilton gazes at the other people at the table, all of them either conversing with each other or welcoming Lin and Hamilton. The minutes after his immediate introduction to the group passes in a blur. Hamilton is snapped from his trance as he finds himself staring at a menu.

"I beg your pardon?" Hamilton asks bashfully, realizing he had missed what was said to him.

"Where are you from?" Daveed asks, his smile is gentle as he takes a languid sip from his drink.

Hamilton and Lin make direct eye contact. "I currently live in Philadelphia with my family," Hamilton replies casually. _'Stay close to the truth without revealing your identity.'_

"You must be from New York if you knew Lin as a kid though, right?" Leslie asks with a lifted brow; he seems suspicious. Hamilton can tell when someone is acting politely aggressive with someone from all of his experience in Congress.

Hamilton smiles easily. "I have moved from many places in my lifetime. I do not consider myself _'from'_ anywhere. Wherever home is, that is where I am from."

This silences the table, and Hamilton worries if his pounding heartbeat can be heard.

"Well said, dude," Anthony chimes in with a wide smile. "I'm all for that found-family shit." Hamilton prepares himself for the young man's slapping hand on his shoulder this time.

The table seems to resume its chaotic nature again as if nothing had occurred. Hamilton allows his gaze to roam across the table, but is momentarily caught by two men sitting a few tables over. They had shifted once Hamilton locked his gaze on them, realizing they were facing their large table. They’re both clothed in silky black suits with a sleek black suitcase on the floor by their feet.

"You mentioned that you have a wife yesterday?" The lovely young woman — ' _what was her name?'_ — _Pippa_ says with a warm smile. Hamilton turns his head in her direction, realizing she is speaking to him.

"Yes," Hamilton replies. "I have a wife —" Lin and Hamilton exchange a glance "— Elizabeth."

Lin takes a sip of his drink, his eyes searching across the table. Pippa's grin only grows larger. "That's so sweet! What does she do for a living?"

Hamilton lifts a curious brow. _'What does she mean by this query? Like any woman, Eliza stays at home.'_ He folds his hands over his lap, considering his response carefully. "She stays home with our children. She is the most astounding mother." He does not say that he is a failure of a father, always working too much. He does not say that he is never home enough to be there with his wife and children. He does not say that he misses them dearly and wishes to be at home right this moment with his family. He takes a large gulp of his water and silently wills this conversation to move on to a different topic.

"Oh, so she's a stay at home mom?" Rene asks, leaning herself into the conversation from a few seats down the row.

"Yeah," Lin replies. "She's great at it. Right, Alex?"

Hamilton forces a smile and nods curtly. "I do not know what I would do without her."

"So 'ow mamfy kids do 'ou have?" Jon asks around a mouth full of bread.

"Ew, Jon! Swallow your food before you speak!" A woman on the opposite side of Anthony says with her features twisted in mild disgust. Her lips soon switch into a light grin as she stares at Jon, allowing Hamilton enough context that she truly is not disgusted by his actions.

"I do not believe I've had the pleasure to properly make your acquaintance, miss?" Hamilton says instead of answering Jon's question. The woman blushes, ducking her head down momentarily to tuck a flyaway strand of her dark curls behind her ear. Anthony's jaw clenches momentarily which causes Hamilton to lift a curious brow his way.

"I'm Jasmine," she says, reaching her hand in front of Anthony — she means to shake his hand. Hamilton grabs it and shakes it, resisting the urge to kiss her hand as Anthony grows tenser beside him.

Social etiquette and customs have changed greatly, but Hamilton cannot resist the urge to lightly charm this young woman. "Jasmine is such an elegant name for an elegant lady." She smiles wider, her cheeks tinting into a deeper shade of red. "Well, _Jasmine_ , you may call me Alex," Hamilton adds with his most charming grin he can plaster on his face.

"Glad you finally met," Anthony says quickly, leaning forward to grab his glass — breaking apart their handshake. "Tell us about your kids and your _wife_ , Alex," Anthony adds, sounding quite bitter.

"Anthony, be chill," Jasmine hisses in Anthony's ear. "He's just being cheeky." Hamilton is sure he is the only one to hear this since nobody else seems to react to her words.

"I have five children," Hamilton says, indulging in the query. He does not wish to already become an enemy to any of Lin's colleagues. "And what of you, Anthony? Do you have a wife and children?"

Anthony chokes on his drink, causing Jasmine to pat his back. Jon laughs, his mouth still mysteriously filled with bread.

"Dude, I'm way too young to be thinking about any of that," Anthony replies, his face beet red. Hamilton smirks, leaning over and taking a languid sip of his water as he catches Lin in his peripheral. He seems to be rubbing his face and shaking his head.

"How old are you?" Hamilton asks after placing his cup down.

"I'm twenty-four," Anthony replies, his voice still hoarse from inhaling his drink. 

"Ah, my friend, I was twenty-three when my wife and I were married!" Hamilton replies jubilantly. "We had our eldest son only one year later."

"Damn," Anthony says, sounding breathless. "That's...young."

Hamilton shrugs. "We fell in love rather quickly, but we have been married for nearly fourteen years, now. I wouldn't change it for the world. She is the love of my life."

Most of the women near them at the table are all resting their heads in their palms, smiling sweetly. "That's so romantic," Pippa says with her lips curling into a gentle grin. Anthony is smiling as well, seeming to have relaxed immensely.

Hamilton feels himself blushing at the thought of his wife and shakes his head. He opts into taking another sip of water, not quite knowing how to respond to Pippa's kind words.

"Fuck, that's the cutest shit I've heard all day," the man between Daveed and Lin says — Hamilton vaguely recalls the man introducing himself as _Oak_ at some point amidst the chaotic blur after he and Lin had arrived. 

"It makes sense why Lin and Alex are friends," Daveed says moments later. "You're both hopeless romantics when it comes to your wives."

"Do you also write hip-hop musicals?" Oak asks, yelping when he receives an elbow jabbing into his side, courtesy of Lin.

Hamilton blinks vacantly, unsure how to respond to such an odd question. "Hip-hop musical?" Is all Hamilton can say.

"Yeah, hip-hop musical. Like the one we're doing," Jasmine says patiently. Hamilton's features just twist into deeper confusion.

"Wait a minute," Leslie says between chuckles. "Do you not know about the musical we're in?"

Hamilton just blinks, staring at everyone before turning towards Lin. "No?"

"Dude, do you live in a cave or does Lin just not tell you anything?" Anthony asks, his voice laced with a clear jest, however, Hamilton finds himself frowning.

"Hamilton," a man suddenly says, causing Hamilton to snap his head in his direction. He has been sitting at the head of the table beside Lin and Hamilton this entire time, not quite engaging with the conversation until now. He remembers him from yesterday — _Chris_ , the one who briefly offered Hamilton a slice of cake during their hasty retreat.

"I... _Pardon?"_ Hamilton stammers nervously. _Have they been caught in their ruse?_

"That's the musical. Hamilton," Chris replies with a friendly smile.

"It's about the founding father on the ten-dollar bill, Alexander Hamilton," Anthony replies casually. Hamilton feels his nerves spike again for an entirely new reason upon hearing this information.

"Lin, how have you never mentioned to him that you wrote this musical?" Hamilton hears Daveed say, but it sounds distant. Hamilton feels like a swarm of wasps are invading his brain. Hamilton stares at Lin who seems to be avoiding his gaze. It feels as if a missing puzzle piece in their equation is finally slotting into place.

_“Are you a fan of the show?” Lin had asked him moments after they met._

_The woman at the ‘24-hour diner’ asked Lin to sign a pamphlet that had Hamilton's name on it._

Hamilton purses his lips. "I knew you worked in theatre, but you had never spoken of what the play was about." Lin stares at Hamilton, his face visibly turning red at Hamilton's words. 

"Yeah, Lin's such a nerd. He wrote a whole damn musical about a founding father," Anthony says teasingly. "Tell me, was Lin always such a dork?"

Hamilton forces the largest grin upon his face, deep down feeling enraged and furious. He has no idea what _‘dork’_ means, but he is sure it is a teasing jest based upon the context behind Anthony’s words. "Of course," Hamilton replies. 

The table erupts into fits of laughter, but Hamilton and Lin do not flinch. They stare at each other, Lin's expression unreadable underneath his rose-tinted cheeks.

"Relax, _mon ami_. We only tease you, so," Hamilton says cooly, lifting a challenging brow.

Pippa watches Lin and Hamilton, being the only one who is no longer laughing. "Mon ami?" Pippa asks in a low voice

"It's just an inside joke between us," Lin replies without tearing his gaze away from Hamilton. Hamilton's lips curl upwards.

“Speaking of Hamilton.” Chris unknowingly interrupts the silent exchange between Hamilton and Lin. “Are you coming back to work tonight, or do you need another night off?”

Lin looks over at Chris, smiling; it appears to be forced. “Yeah, I can come back tonight. I think I can trust Alex to not burn down my apartment when I’m gone.”

Hamilton hears a few chuckles. Anthony nudges him, stealing his attention. “That’s not like, referring to anything, right. You’ve never caught his apartment on fire before, have you?”

Hamilton twists his lips into what he hopes to appear as a smile. “No, I have not yet, and I do not plan to.” 

“Well, I highly doubt that anyone _plans_ on catching anything on fire, but that doesn’t stop it from happening — _ow!”_ Jon says, hissing sharply when Pippa smacks the back of his head.

“What he means to say is that we’ll be glad to have you back tonight, Lin — and I’m sure Alex will take good care of your apartment when you’re gone for a few short hours.”

Lin looks over at him and Hamilton gives a brief smile as his only response.

* * *

Hamilton and Lin were silent the entire journey back to Lin's home. Hamilton walks directly towards the _‘bathroom’_ upon entering the apartment, entirely ignoring Lin. However, before he can take one step into the room, he feels Lin's hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, I'm sorry," Lin says in a low voice.

Hamilton shuffles away from him, allowing his frown to take over his previously neutral features. " _Sorry?_ That is all you have to say for yourself?"

Lin's lips tug downwards. "I didn't know how to mention it, okay?"

Hamilton sighs, turning to face him entirely. "I do not care that you wrote a play about me. I am upset that you did not mention it whilst we were attempting to figure out _why_ I was taken here."

"I didn't think it mattered…"

"It is something we shall still consider," Hamilton replies, his anger simmering away. "Perhaps it was not just an accident I ended up in your company, Lin. If you wrote a play about me — an apparently popular one, at that — then it shall be mentioned when I ask you to think of _any reason_ why this is happening." Lin seems to shrivel dejectedly after Hamilton's lecture. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Do you understand?"

"Yeah," Lin says, nodding his head. "You're right. I should’ve mentioned it."

Hamilton flickers his gaze to the bathroom, staring at his clothes that he had left neatly folded on the counter. "Please do not feel embarrassed, Lin. I truly was only joining in the jest at the restaurant — playing the part of your friend, _Alex,_ for your colleagues." He pauses, ducking his head downward, refusing to look at Lin. "I am...honoured that you have written a play about me…"

There is a long silence between the two. "Uh, okay...thanks? — You're welcome?" Lin says awkwardly, undecided between which phrase he should use as a response.

Hamilton nods before fleeing into the bathroom, swiftly closing the door behind him and resting his forehead on it. He stands there with his eyes closed and his head resting against the cool wooden door, waiting until he hears Lin's footsteps retreating down the hallway. He turns around, his back against the door and his head tilted upwards as he releases a long exhale. He rubs his face, feeling the beginnings of an oncoming headache that he wishes to ignore.

 _Lin has written a play about Hamilton._ He cannot even begin to process what any of this means. Lin must know quite a lot of information about Hamilton if that were the case. _Does this mean he already knew about Hamilton’s children and wife? Why did he bother asking about them if he already knew about them?_ Lin has also seemingly avoided asking Hamilton any questions in exchange for his help — as their deal entails Hamilton sharing information about his time for Lin’s aid. Perhaps Lin truly wanted to help Hamilton because he... _likes him?_ Hamilton frowns at his reflection. _How could Lin like such a man as himself?_ He has fallen into contingency over his years in congress, making dreadful compromises to get even a smidgen of his plans approved.

Lin must surely know all of this. _What else does Lin know about Hamilton’s life? He must know how he dies. Does Hamilton die an old man? Does he die a year from now? Will he be swept away in a storm? Or perhaps he dies of a fever, like his mother._

Hamilton wordlessly changes into his own clothing as he ponders all of this. His eyes are trained on his reflection as he clumsily ties his cravat around his neck. He no longer has any trace of powder in his hair, yet he still sees a few streaks of grey. He frowns, leaning on the counter to examine himself closely. His features are littered with wrinkles, his freckles are prominent without any powder upon his cheeks to hide his natural flush. His hair shines under the harsh yellow light above the mirror, brighter than any candle he has seen. His hair appears like rusted copper that has been set aflame, two or three streaks of silver cutting through his firey hair near his ears. It seems shorter than he last recalls — he frowns. _He is quite simply getting older._ His fingertips trace the memorized places of faded scars upon his chest until they press into two heavy lumps in his inner chest pocket.

He scrambles to pull out the objects, feeling like an idiot for simply forgetting that he had tucked them into his chest pocket before leaving his home. He holds the two miniatures in his hands, his heart pounding at the sight of them. He stares at the painted strokes of his dear Eliza’s face. She looks elegant and proper with a simple smile, her dark eyes gazing in the direction of the painter.

Hamilton chokes on a sudden sob, covering his mouth as he stares at her portrait, grateful that he was able to bring such a treasured token with himself. He breathes deeply before removing his hand to place her portrait into his chest pocket again, leaving the second one in his right hand, no longer hidden by hers.

It’s a portrait he rarely looks at these days, only glancing at it whenever he remembers to grab it and place it in his pocket. Hamilton traces his finger across the dry oil painting, over the pale cheeks of John Laurens smiling cordially in his blue army uniform. Unlike Hamilton, he is unaffected by age; his portrait has preserved his youth.

His eyes are the right shade of crystal-blue in the painting — Hamilton recalls telling John such after he was given the miniature. He has always cherished it as he feels it is the only painting of his Dear Laurens that captures his handsome features perfectly. His hair is powdered in the portrait, but Hamilton can still see the golden locks messily pulled into his queue on a sunny day, his profile haloed by the sunlight streaming into the parlour that they have turned into their makeshift aide-de-camp office. He can still hear the scratching of their quills against parchment and smell the small supply of ink. He can still hear Tilghlman and Meade’s jests and Fitzgerald chuckling softly to himself. He can still hear Harrison asking them if they desire more coffee. He can still feel Laurens’ knee brushing up against his own under their shared desk where no one can see—

Hamilton collapses onto the floor, still gripping the portrait in his trembling fingers. He squeezes his eyes closed, biting his bottom lip to avoid making any sounds as tears escape, rolling down his cheeks. He holds the portrait against his chest, wishing it were the man instead. He longs to feel his heartbeat again — longs to see his face. _What would John have looked like had he lived? Would he have pronounced crows-feet in the corners of his eyes? Would he have bruises under his eyes from staying up late whilst figuring out how to fight his battles in congress? Would his honey-blonde hair begin to show signs of grey?_

Hamilton startles at the sound of gentle knocking on the door. He tucks the miniature into his inner chest pocket where the other one rests before furiously wiping his face. “Hey, are you alright in there? It’s been a while and I was starting to worry.”

Hamilton clears his throat as he stands up. “I am well,” he replies firmly. He examines his features in the mirror; his face appears red and puffy from his crying. He pulls at the _‘tap’_ and tries to not gawk at the marvel of clean water pouring beautifully into Lin’s home. He cups his hands under the lukewarm water and splashes it on his face, hoping to wash away any incriminating evidence of his moment of weakness. “I will join you in a moment.”

“Okay,” Lin mumbles. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.” Hamilton listens to the shifting floorboards, indicating Lin has retreated down the hallway.

Hamilton pushes the tap until it stops flowing an endless stream of water. He grips onto the counter and stares at his reflection. He waits until his emotions have been properly neutralized on his face before pushing himself away from the counter. He exits the bathroom and strides into the living room confidently. Lin is sitting on the sofa, reading something on his phone. Hamilton sits on the armchair across from Lin, picking up his notes, ready to bury himself into his work again.

There is a long, thick silence between the two for several minutes. “I think I shouldn’t go to work tonight,” Lin says, abruptly ending their silence.

Hamilton tilts his head up towards Lin. “Did I not say that you shall not put your life on hold on my account, Lin?” Hamilton lifts a brow, his lips tugging down into a frown. “Please, go to work tonight. I will be fine.” Hamilton returns to his research.

Hamilton can see from above his notes that Lin quietly stares at him for a very long time before finally returning his attention to his phone.

* * *

Hamilton follows Lin through the tour of his kitchen, his hands behind his back, and his lips struggling to avoid smiling amusedly as Lin exasperatingly explains what everything is before leaving for work.

“And if you get any aches or pains — or any headaches — this is _ibuprofen_ , and you can take one pill to help ease the pain,” Lin explains as he wiggles the bottle in front of Hamilton. “Shit, I don’t have _acetaminophen_ . Which one is better, again?” Lin mutters to himself, frantically digging through the _‘medicine cupboard’._

“I will be fine, Lin,” Hamilton says smoothly as Lin contemplates over whether he should place the bottle on the counter or back in the cupboard. He puts the bottle on the counter.

“I can leave post-it notes on everything so you won’t forget what it all is,” Lin says, completely ignoring Hamilton’s statement. The man can only sigh as Lin paces to the other counter and grabs small colourful pieces of parchment in the shape of a square. He furiously scribbles a short note upon the parchment and peels it apart, sticking it onto the _‘refrigerator’_ before repeating the process. Hamilton silently wonders how it was able to stick to the object, but refuses to ask during Lin’s frenzy.

“Okay, I think that’s everything?” Lin says after stepping back from the final object in which he has _‘stuck a post-it note’_ to.

“Yes, I believe so,” Hamilton offers, hoping Lin will stop panicking and just make his leave. Hamilton ignores the dull headache that has not left since returning home from lunch two hours previous.

“Please don’t use the stove,” Lin says abruptly, scribbling a note before sticking it on the ‘stove’. Hamilton’s lips twist when he leans forward to read the message written upon the colourful piece of sticky parchment paper: **_DO NOT USE!_ **

“Alright.” Hamilton stands up tall again. “I think you have said enough. Go, before you are late, my friend.”

“Okay, okay,” Lin says, placing the small stack of _‘post-it notes’_ on the counter. He walks towards the front door, Hamilton following close behind to properly see him out. He sits on the small bench by the door. “If you need anything, you remember that you have to send a message to me on the tablet? Click that blue icon with the white speech bubble and tap my name — which is the only one on there — and let me know if anything’s wrong?”

“Yes, yes. I recall you _very carefully_ walking me through the process,” Hamilton replies, watching as Lin ties the laces in his shoes. “You described it as an _‘instant messenger’_.”

“Yeah, that’s right. Unlike letters, your message will appear instantly on my phone.” Lin stands up. “And I mean it. If you need anything, please—”

“Go!” Hamilton laughs, grabbing Lin’s shoulder and playfully shoving him towards the door. “Good luck with your show tonight!”

“Actually, we say _‘break a leg’_ in theatre,” Lin replies as he opens the door. He stares at the key in his hand. “Do you remember the spare key on the counter? The one with the—”

“Lin, I swear, if you do not leave this instant, I will—”

“No need to finish that sentence. I get the picture. I’m leaving!” Lin says, quickly cutting Hamilton off. They both smile brightly at one another as Lin exits the apartment. “I’ll be back in a few hours. No need to wait up for me, but knowing you, you’ll probably be hard at work when I get home.”

Hamilton resists the urge to roll his eyes. Lin waves at him before turning around and walking down the hallway. Hamilton closes the door gently and turns the lock before returning to his research.

Hamilton picks up his notes and turns on the tablet, busy at work. He only manages to read a few articles before his headache from earlier persistently worsens. “Bugger…” Hamilton groans and he places the tablet on the table by his notes, rubbing his forehead with his thumb and index finger.

He stands up and walks over to the counter and sees the bottle of ibuprofen that Lin had mentioned before he left with a note stuck to it reading: **_TAKE ONE PILL FOR HEADACHES!_ **

Hamilton lifts the bottle and attempts to unscrew the cap, but finds it unwilling to open. He frowns before readjusting his position, struggling to open the bottle. His headache worsens, shooting a sudden sharp pain down his neck and all through his spine. Hamilton clumsily drops the bottle, staggering on his feet and gripping the counter as his ears begin ringing painfully. He grabs his head, his fingers tangling in his red curls as he winces in pain.

He blinks rapidly — his vision seems to bend and warp, causing him to feel dizzy. He stumbles to the side, his balance non-existent now as he struggles to lean down to pick up the bottle. _‘The damned lid is still sealed even after falling!’_

His fingers barely graze the bottle before another sharp pain in his head causes his entire body to convulse. He is on his knees in an instant, groaning in pain, before collapsing onto the hardwood floor.

### °•°•°

Hamilton startles awake, wiping the saliva that has escaped his mouth during his unplanned slumber upon his desk. He rubs his temples, attempting to soothe the dull pain. He smacks his lips — his mouth dry like cotton — as he blinks enough to see properly again.

The candle on his desk has shrunken a considerable amount since he last recalls, wondering how long he had been asleep. He stretches his legs and looks down when he hears the sound of a bottle rolling across the floor by his feet. He startles again as he hears rapping upon his door downstairs. He gazes at the clock beside his desk and feels his blood run cold at the painful reminder. It is only half past ten. He had hoped he would wake up past twelve.

The knocking on his door reminds him again why he was woken up so abruptly, and he slowly pushes himself out of his chair. He grabs the candle holder and slowly eases his way out of his office. He stumbles down the stairs, his head throbbing as more persistent knocking sounds from his front door.

“I am almost there!” Hamilton snaps at the mysterious visitor at his door. He places the candle holder on the small table beside the door before unlocking it and opening it. His demands of _‘why are you knocking upon my door at such an hour!?’_ simmers completely away from his lips as he finds himself in front of a young woman.

Her face and arms are clearly bruised and her eyes are reddened with visible tears. “Dear Lord… What has happened to you?” Is all Hamilton is able to say.

“I am terribly sorry to disturb you, sir. I was told that you are a man of honour, Mr. Hamilton… You see, I had nowhere else to go…” The woman mumbles between soft sobs.

Hamilton stares at her slim figure. He is not tall, himself, but he finds that he towers over this frail woman. Her hair is golden, and for a moment, he could have sworn her eyes were crystal blue — however, they are but a plain brown.

“Please, come in,” Hamilton murmurs in response, opening his door further to allow her entry. The woman mumbles her thanks as she scurries inside of the house. Hamilton cautiously closes the door behind her and faces her with his arms folded over his chest. “What is your name, Miss?

“Mrs.” She corrects him. “Mrs. Maria Reynolds, sir.”

“My dear, who has done this to you?” Hamilton asks as he examines her bruises in the candlelight. They appear to be fresh.

“M-uh—My husband, sir… Mr. James Reynolds…” She begins sobbing, covering her face and collapsing against Hamilton's chest. He quickly catches her, wrapping his arms around her small frame and holding her up. He leans over her to grab the candle holder and carefully ushers her into the front parlour, helping her take a seat on the sofa. He lights a few candles above the fireplace with the one in the holder before placing it down on the coffee table. He sits beside her and she rests her head on his shoulder. He coos her softly, rubbing soothing circles into her back, patiently awaiting her breathing to even out.

“Are you able to explain to me what has happened, Mrs. Reynolds?” Hamilton asks quietly after a few moments. Her breathing is still laboured, but her crying has subsided. She leans back, wiping her tears with her hands. Hamilton wordlessly proffers his handkerchief from his coat pocket and she offers a shy smile before dabbing her face with the cloth.

“Mr. Reynolds returned home late from the tavern this evening…” She begins, bunching the handkerchief in her clasped hands upon her lap. Her skirts are a marvellous emerald green — a perfect contrast to his violet jacket. “We had argued about him coming home drunk, sir...and he became physical. It is quite typical of him to hit me, sir, but not in this manner. He would…” her breath wavers as she gasps softly. “He would not stop hitting me with clenched fists…”

Hamilton’s jaw ticks as he shifts uncomfortably in his seat. His anger for this woman begins boiling in his veins. “Where is he now?” Hamilton manages to say through gritted teeth.

“I do not know, sir. He left after attacking me — he said he was never coming home…” She quickly wipes at her eyes as more tears begin to fall. “We have a daughter, sir — a beautiful little girl. He has abandoned us and I have...nothing to offer her…”

Hamilton blinks furiously, focusing on relaxing his breathing and willing himself to remain calm. He silently wishes to murder this man who would do such a thing to his family. “I have some money in my savings I can give you…” Hamilton says, causing Mrs. Reynolds to snap her head in his direction. “Perhaps thirty dollars will do. At least until you can find work to provide for your daughter…”

“Oh, heavens, no! I could never ask such a thing from you!” Mrs. Reynolds begs, gripping Hamilton's elbow. “Please, all I ask is for your legal advice, sir. I — I fear if my husband tried to return and take my daughter from me… I do not know what to do!”

Hamilton turns completely on the sofa, resting his hands on her shoulders. “Where is she now? Your daughter?”

“She is with our neighbour. I did not wish to leave her alone tonight,” Mrs. Reynolds replies, her eyes shimmering like a flame in the candlelight. “They had informed me you studied law and currently work for congress. I had hoped…” She lowers her head, biting her bottom lip as she clutches his handkerchief close to her chest.

“I know someone — a lawyer — that you may call upon. I will write his name and address for you…” Hamilton replies before standing up at once. “I will be but a moment. Wait here.”

She wordlessly nods and Hamilton hurries out of the parlour and towards his office. He carelessly slides papers away until he finds a blank sheet. Ignoring the fallen paper by the liquor bottle on his floor, he dips his quill into the ink and begins scribbling a brief letter. He quickly dots his _‘i’s_ and strokes through his _‘t’s_ before placing the quill on the table and gently blowing on the letter. He seals the bottle of ink and powders the letter, hesitating for a moment. He saunters to his bookshelf and pulls out _Gulliver's Travels_ — an old gift from a friend he had wished to forget tonight — and opens it. He pulls out thirty dollars from his secret savings and closes the book, returning it to its place on the shelf. He pockets the money and grabs the letter before scrambling out of his office.

He finds her unmoved from her spot on the loveseat, her hands visibly trembling in their grip on the cloth. She looks up at Hamilton as he hands her the letter he had composed for his former colleague.

Her eyes flicker upon the page before she gazes up at Hamilton with her big doe eyes. “Aaron Burr?”

“He should be able to help you. He is one of the finest lawyers I know,” Hamilton replies with a gentle smile. “If you provide him with that letter, I am sure he would be willing to help you for a more than fair price,” Hamilton says, discreetly tucking his hand in his pocket.

Mrs. Reynolds stands up, her eyes glued to the letter before looking up into Hamilton’s deep blue eyes. “Thank you, sir…” She slips the letter in her skirt pocket and offers his handkerchief.

Hamilton waves her off kindly. “You may keep it. I have plenty in my possession.”

She smiles sweetly and tucks the cloth in her other pocket. “Thank you…”

Hamilton slips his hand from his pocket and grabs hers. He slips the thirty dollars in her hands as he pulls his away. “For your travels…”

She stares at the money before shaking her head and holding it out towards him. “No, no. Sir, I could never be able to repay you!”

Hamilton shrugs noncommittally. “No repayment is required. Consider it a gift from a concerned neighbour, my dear.”

Her eyes glitter with new unshed tears, and she practically falls on Hamilton as she wraps her arms around him, squeezing him in a tight embrace. “Thank you, Mr. Hamilton, but I shall repay you somehow...”

Hamilton politely returns the embrace before gently pulling away. “Tis quite alright, my dear.”

“Well, I...must be off, then…” Mrs. Reynolds mumbles after a moment. Her bruised face eases into a smile. “Thank you for your hospitality, sir.”

Hamilton’s eyes only widen at her words. “Wait, you mean to walk home alone? At this hour?”

“I had walked here on my own perfectly fine, Mr. Hamilton. I only live a block away — I do not wish to intrude any longer, sir.”

Hamilton shakes his head, tisking her. “No, I will not risk your safety. Allow me to escort you to your home.”

“You have already offered me so much, sir…” Mrs. Reynolds replies shyly.

“Please, allow me the honour to do this — for my own sanity. I shall not sleep in comfort this eve until I know you are home, safe and sound,” Hamilton replies earnestly.

Mrs. Reynolds considers him for a long moment before finally sighing, slipping her arm around his offered elbow. “Alright, Mr. Hamilton. If you insist.”

He smiles down at her as he picks up the candle holder and walks her towards the fireplace. They both blow away the candles before he leads her to the doorway. She takes the candle and he opens the door, grabbing his house keys dangling on the hook by the door. He closes it behind them and turns the lock before slipping the key in his pocket.

“Lead the way, Mrs. Reynolds,” Hamilton says as they retreat from his porch.

“Please, you’ve done so much for me — you may call me Maria,” she replies as she subtly turns them left; they stroll together down the dusty road.

“Maria,” Hamilton tests her name on his tongue, smiling down at her. She still holds the candle in her other hand and aims it on their path. There are lit street lights above them on the road, but the candle is a welcome aid for their vision. “You may call me Alexander, then, if we are to be so well acquainted now, my dear.”

Maria giggles softly, ducking her head away. “Thank you again for your kindness, sir — Alexander,” she quickly corrects herself.

“It is not a problem for me, Maria,” Alexander replies lowly. “If I may be bold, Mrs. Reynolds, but I must admit that I was rather lonely tonight before you came. Helping you is also surely helping me as well.”

She studies his face, lifting a curious brow and grinning softly. “I suppose we both needed an unexpected friend on this eve, hmm?”

Alexander’s smile grows wider, his eyes barely leaving her face to watch where they are walking. “Yes, it would appear, so.”

She leads him around a corner before resuming their conversation. “If you do not mind my query, but where is your family tonight, Alexander?”

Alexander hums, the corner of his lips tugging downward. “My wife has taken the children to her father’s home in upstate New York for the summer.”

“When will they return?” Maria asks innocently.

“The first week of September,” Alexander replies easily, although his sour mood has taken over his features.

“Your wife is lucky to have you,” Maria says after a beat of silence. Hamilton smiles sweetly down at her.

“And if I may be so bold — your husband is an idiot for not realizing how lucky he is to have you,” he replies.

Maria chuckles at this, shaking her head at Hamilton and gently shoving him. “Oh, _sir!_ Must you be so brash!” She says, her giggles nowhere near subsiding.

“I will be if it continues to leave such a smile upon your face,” Hamilton replies, nearly breathless. Somewhere in the back of his head, he wonders if he is still drunk from earlier. 

Maria visibly blushes at his admission, and she purses her lips as her eyes pointedly focus on the path in front of her. They fall in amicable silence for another moment before she stops their stride.

“This be my home, sir,” Maria says at once, facing the humble dwelling in front of them.

“Allow me to walk you to your door,” Hamilton replies with a grin. “I would not stand it if a beast pounces you on your pathway.”

Maria laughs openly at his clear jest, and she lightly taps his chest before they walk together to her door. “My, would you look at that? We have made it safely to my door.”

“You’re welcome,” Hamilton says cheekily.

Maria’s lips pinch. “I do wish I can repay you, Alexander.”

“I have already told you it is unnecessary to do such,” Hamilton replies with a wave of his hand.

Maria places a hand on her doorknob. “Perhaps I can make you some tea before you go back to your home?”

Hamilton considers her offer. He should _really_ be going home _now,_ but the thought of sitting in his office, doing anything to avoid thinking about _him_ tonight causes his mouth to move against his will. “Yes, I suppose I can take you upon your offer.”

They quietly shuffle into her home, and she locks the door behind him. She leads him to the parlour and prepares a pot of water, hanging it over the fireplace. He helps by placing wood in the fireplace before she uses the candle to light the fire. They sit on the sofa in front of the fire, placing the small candle on the coffee table in front of them.

“I thank you for walking me home,” Maria says after a moment of watching the flames dance around the pot. “I truly did not want to be alone tonight…”

Hamilton swallows a mysteriously large amount of saliva. He nervously rubs the back of his neck. “Yes. Me too…”

She looks up at him, a few curls falling in her face as she does so. Hamilton brushes the strands away, tucking them behind her ear before he can stop himself. He pulls his hand away and turns his body toward the fire. _He should leave._

“I should probably be on my way home,” Hamilton says suddenly. “I thank you, but I feel rather tired and must—” his voice cuts off as she places a firm hand on his knee. He looks directly at her.

“Please, do not leave Mr. Hamilton…” Her eyes flicker down to his lips. “Alexander… Let me repay you…”

He swallows again, feeling his heartbeat pick up its pace. He shuffles away from her grasp. “I must…” his sentence blurs into oblivion as she presses up against him, her hand gently resting upon his cheek. “You do not need to…” he whispers, his eyes wide.

“I know…” Her low tone mirrors his. “But I want to.”

Hamilton has no time to think when she leans up and presses her lips firmly against his. They’re soft and wet, and he exhales deeply through his nose. His eyes flicker shut and he responds, wrapping an arm around her back and lifting another to hold the nape of her neck. She moves her mouth against his, and he allows her purchase, feeling her tongue in his mouth. He moans, and she replies graciously, sighing into his mouth sweetly and pushing herself into him closer, closer, _closer—_

Hamilton suddenly pulls away, wiping the excess saliva dangling from his lips with his sleeve. She looks up at him with hooded eyelids, her pupils blown wider than before. “I have to go home, Mrs. Reynolds,” Hamilton stammers sheepishly as he fumbles to his feet. He needs distance, distance, _distance—_

He retreats towards the front door, but before he can reach it, he feels her hand on his wrist, tugging him back. He turns around with the motion and looks down at her with twisted features; stuck between a grimace and a frown.

“Please, don’t go!” She cries desperately. “Stay with me. So we will not be alone tonight.”

“I shall not!” Hamilton bites back, furiously tugging his arm from her grasp.

She frowns up at him, her bottom lip jutting out, and her arms securely folded together in front of her, thus pushing her breasts closer together— Hamilton’s eyes snap up to her face again, shaking his head feverishly, and his breathing becoming laboured as his anxiety begins to take over.

“You _shall_ not or you _will_ not?” She replies, lifting a challenging brow at him.

“I — this is highly inappropriate, Mrs. Reynolds,” Hamilton replies, his voice hoarse and gritty. “We cannot do this.”

Her eyes downcast to the floor, her arms falling loose at her sides. She bites her lip before looking up at him again, their gazes locked. “I had thought that you...because you were alone...and I…”

Hamilton sighs, rubbing his face stressfully. _‘Lord, show me how to say no to this,’_ Hamilton silently begs in his head as he stares into her round eyes, pleadingly gazing into his own. He misses the feeling of soft lips upon his own; his dark desires are itching his skin, making him squirm in his spot. His back thuds against the door as she takes a bold step forward.

“Please… Don’t leave me alone tonight…” She whispers softly. “We can keep each other company and forget the world outside of this house. Just for tonight…”

He considers her proposition. _He imagines going home, as he should, and sulking in misery over_ — He leans forward, not allowing himself to think on it anymore. She is offering him peace and solace — an opportunity to just _forget it all_ for one night. That is all he desires. So he kisses her, holding her cheeks with such care as he captures her lips, biting at them desperately. She responds eagerly, looping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer to her.

He follows her lead into the parlour; forgetting about the door, forgetting about his wife, forgetting about his responsibilities, and forgetting what had happened nine years prior on today’s date: _the 27th of August..._

### °•°•°

Hamilton awakes before his body does so. He is vaguely aware of his surroundings but finds it difficult to place himself into a tangible space. He blinks his eyes open languidly, and continues to incessantly blink until his vision clears.

His dream was so vivid as if it were truly happening in the moment. It was not just a dream, though — it was a memory. Not a dream-like memory, warped by his subconscious; it was an _honest-to-god_ memory. A true event recreated for him to relive in a _painfully excruciating_ amount of detail. He rolls onto his back and cranes his stiff neck to look at the _'digital clock'_ on the _'stove'_. Only one hour has passed since Lin left for work. Hamilton absently rubs his head, feeling the dull pain of his receding headache.

He sniffles as something noticeably wet leaks from his nose. He wipes the strange liquid away, the consistency not matching typical snot. He pulls his hand away to examine his fingers and feels his heartbeat sharpen at the sight: _Blood._

He pushes himself up, careful to not touch anything with his blood-coated fingers as he struggles to his feet. He sways unsteadily as he walks towards the bathroom. He stares at the blood, leaning on the counter heavily against his other hand. His trembling left-hand lifts from the counter to tug at the tap, and he shoves his bloody fingers underneath the running water. He stares at his reflection, hissing when he sees the blood oozing from his right nostril. He grabs the cloth folded neatly on the counter and holds it under the water before dabbing the blood away from his face.

Hamilton does not know what he shall do. What had just occurred was not a typical headache or nightmare — _something is very wrong with him._ After washing away the blood, he pushes the tap until the water stops and hurries into the living room. He nearly trips over his own legs as he reaches desperately for the tablet laying upon the coffee table. He attempts to turn on the tablet, but frowns when nothing happens. _‘That is...odd.’_ Hamilton tries pressing the button again, but nothing changes.

“Fuck!” Hamilton hollers in frustration; he tosses the tablet carelessly on the sofa. He must tell Lin what has happened — he is not quite sure of himself on what exactly occurred, but whatever it was...it was absolutely terrible.

Hamilton grabs his head as his thoughts swirl in a frenzy — like a hurricane in his brain. His eyes catch the sight of the spare keys on the counter. He approaches them and reads the note scrawled on the blue _‘post-it’_ : **_SPARE KEYS IN CASE YOU NEED TO LEAVE! (ONLY FOR EMERGENCIES!)_ **

Hamilton peels the parchment from the keys and quickly puts on his overcoat before fleeing the apartment. He exits the building and retraces his steps to the theatre, confidently following the direction with the landmarks he recalls. He finds the staircase easily for the _‘subway’_ and scurries down the stairs, nearly slipping at the bottom and gripping the railing to keep himself from falling.

Hamilton comes to the strange mechanism to enter the station and frowns as he is stricken with the epiphany that he does not acquire any of the _‘subway tokens’_ Lin had on his person. He searches his proximity before gripping the two metal boxes and hopping over the spinning mechanism swiftly. He lands unsteadily, gripping his lower back as he runs towards the trains.

“Hey, you!” Someone yells harshly. “You can’t do that! Get back here!”

Hamilton ignores the voice, turning around the corner onto the _‘subway platform’_ . Hamilton feels his adrenaline pumping through his veins as he sprints, feeling like a liberated young man fighting in the war for America’s freedom against the British again. _‘Stay to the right. Stay to the right,’_ Hamilton repeats this mantra in his head as he runs, recalling this _‘subway train’_ being the correct one. The train pulls in, blowing his hair and coat-tails and he does not slow down; he barely hears the footsteps keeping pace behind him underneath the wretched screeching of the subway coming to a halt. The humid wind and the shrill sound reminds him of a storm in his distant memory, but he proceeds with firm features.

“Stop that man!” The man chasing Hamilton hollers as the subway dings and the doors slide open. Hamilton slips into the subway and continues to run through it, hoping to find cover. The jingle plays and the doors close directly in front of the man; he scowls at Hamilton through the scratched glass. Hamilton pants, resting his hands on his knees and smiles at the man cheekily.

  
Hamilton sways off-balance as the subway yerks; he watches the man slowly vanish as the subway begins moving. He collapses in a seat and focuses on his breathing, ignoring the other patrons as they ignore him. It is so simple to become invisible in a crowd. He stares up at the name of the upcoming stops, refusing to remove his gaze. His mind wanders, however, as he considers the strange occurrence in Lin’s apartment. He hopes that he and Lin can find a reasonable explanation for his strange... _experience._ _Is this a sign his health is depleting?_ Nothing like this has happened before.The only major changes to his life he can link the strange situation to is… _Time Travel..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that was… _a lot to unpack…_ I had to end it there or the chapter would have been way too long — thus taking longer to upload! (It’s already WAY too long anyway, aha!) The next chapter is also gonna be from Hamilton's perspective as well since it was originally part of this one. I decided to cut it in half once I saw the word count… whoops...
> 
> See ya'll next week with the next update, hopefully.
> 
>  **Some not-so-fun history facts:**  
>  \- John Laurens died on August 27th, 1782.  
> \- Hamilton wrote in the Reynold's Pamphlet that the affair started in "the summer of 1791."
> 
> _"Am I taking advantage of that vague timeline to write Lams angst?" Yes. Yes I am._
> 
> **Side Note:**  
>  I genuinely read the 1792 edition of the English dictionary to make sure Hamilton can accurately say "yesterday" and confidently know what it means. I would have been so upset if "yesterday" wasn't a word that existed, yet.
> 
> Also, I definitely failed at the late 18th-century grammar, but if I followed it completely, all of us would be confused. That is probably the only ‘historical inaccuracy’ that I will let slide because I refuse to write his chapters entirely in that early-modern English style. For Hamilton’s chapters, I will still attempt to _somewhat_ follow his general dialect (in the narration as well as his dialogue) as accurately as possible without throwing our new-modern English rules completely out the window. (They used that stupid-as-hell ‘s’ that looks like an ‘f’. The letter [ ſ ]. I refuſe to uſe that letter in my book. Fuck that letter.)
> 
> I did have a blast finding fun words in that dictionary to eventually slip into Hamilton's dialogue that I figured would make Lin scratch his head and be like, "wtf?" (In this chapter, I did slip in “yerk” which is just “jerk” as in “a quick motion.”) If you wanna check out the 1792 edition of the English dictionary, I'll provide the link below. It's entirely free to read/download:  
> https://books.google.ca/books?id=j-UIAAAAQAAJ&printsec=frontcover&redir_esc=y#v=onepage&q&f=false


	8. ACT II - Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 9.8k words of pure angst with a dash of comedy. _Pebs' written tonal shifts giving readers whiplash since 2010™_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know...I know...It’s been a while and I’m really sorry. This particular chapter has been one that I’ve not only looked forward to, but _dreaded_ since I began writing this book. It is finally here and I really hope y’all enjoy it! Thank you everyone for the lovely comments, kudos, and bookmarks! It all really means a lot to me :)  
>  _This chapter is dedicated to all of my friends over on the BBC Discord server. Y’all have listened to me rant, rave, complain, etc. about this story for so long and you guys haven’t ejected me into the sun out of annoyance yet, so this is my gift to you for being my support through this journey._
> 
>  **A possible Trigger Warning, just to be safe:**  
>  This chapter contains scenes with PTSD flashbacks and dissociation. I mention PTSD and Trauma in the tags, but I felt that a gentle reminder of those tags is necessary for this particular chapter. If anything is inaccurate, please do not hesitate to let me know as I can still make mistakes and I do not want to spread false information. (You can find links to the sources I used in the endnotes.)  
> Tread carefully, my friends :)

Hamilton flees from the subway station, unsteadily climbing the stairs onto the streets of New York. He strides down the street, recalling the theatre being a straight path from the subway station. He takes notice of the ever-growing crowds, realizing it is a daunting task to squeeze through the thick mob of people as he approaches the theatre.

He hesitates when he hears raucous cheering and a magnified voice echoing across the street — the voice is loud but rather unintelligible. Hamilton stops, standing stock-still when he arrives at the theatre doors. A large group of people is huddled around it, watching a woman with a strange contraption in her hand, vaguely resembling a horn. It seems to be what is magnifying her voice.

“...everyone participating in the costume contest please step forward!” The crowd roars with applause and a few people push their way to the front, all wearing variations of clothing resembling Hamilton's own clothes.

“Hey, dude! You better get to the front!” A young woman beside Hamilton says in his ear, nudging him forward. He stumbles out into the centre, staring wide-eyed at the crowd before turning sheepishly towards the row of people dressed in familiar clothing. He is ushered towards the lineup and stares out at the crowd in a disoriented manner, his dulled headache still not quite evaporated yet.

“Here are the rules: I’m gonna hold my hand over a contestant and when I say _‘yay’_ — anyone who likes the costume will cheer. When I say _‘nay’_ — everyone who does not like the costume will neigh like a horse!” The crowd laughs. “If there are more _‘nays’_ then the contestant will be disqualified. If there are more _‘yays’_ , the contestant will survive the round. We will repeat this until there is only one Hamilton remaining. The winner will receive tickets to tonight’s show!” The crowd whoops, whistles, and cheers; Hamilton realizes his terrible mistake incredibly late.

Everyone is dressed like _him_ for the play Lin is putting on and Hamilton was mistaken as someone joining this strange charade game contest. He had left the apartment in his own attire — he is foolishly _not_ wearing his disguise. Before he can retreat, however, he feels the woman hover her hand over his head. “Can I hear any _‘nays’_?”

There are a few disheartened _‘nays’_.

“Can I hear any _‘yays’_?”

The crowd erupts into boisterous cheering. Hamilton abstains from shivering in response to the sudden boom of the New York crowd.

“Looks like you’re safe for this round!” The woman says to Hamilton cheerfully before moving on to the next person in their lineup.

As instructed in the rules, the woman repeats the process multiple times. The lineup began with fifteen people and is now down to three — Hamilton is one of them. He watches the woman hover her hand over his head again and sheepishly smiles at the crowd.

“Can I hear any horses in the house?” The woman calls out.

There are a few ‘nays’.

“Can I hear a—”

The crowd interrupts her with obnoxious cheering. Hamilton’s grin grows with pride.

“Awesome! Purple Ham survives another round!” The woman says, a few people chuckling as she approaches the person to his left. They started calling him _‘Purple Ham’_ after a few rounds when they discovered he was the only _‘Hamilton’_ wearing a violet coat.

“Do we have any horses up in here?”

There is a disappointingly loud humming array of ‘nays’. 

“Any ‘yays’?”

The cheer is loud, but not loud enough to be heard over the _‘honking’_ of the _‘cars’_ on the street.

“I’m sorry, but you are _disqualified!_ Let’s give them some ‘yays’ for such a great effort on their costume!” The crowd politely claps, some people vocally cheering. Hamilton idly wonders if the crowd had cheered like this moments ago, this person could have proceeded onwards to the next round in this strange game.

“Alright, we are in the final round — only two Hams left!” The woman elates brightly and the crowd responds appropriately — cheering obnoxiously loud. “This round is gonna be a bit different than the others — this round we are gonna create a Twitter poll that will be open for five minutes! It will be on _@HamiltonMusical_ — the official Twitter account for the Hamilton Musical! We will ask which Ham deserves the crown.” The woman holds a hand over Hamilton's head. “Do you vote for Purple Ham?” She strides over to the other person and hovers her hand over their head. “Or do you vote for Emerald Ham?” She stands in-between the two of them. “May the odds be ever in your favour, Hams.”

Hamilton looks over at the other contestant — a small and thin and almost child-like person with their dark hair combed in a particular way, causing it to shine and slick down to their shoulders. He cannot quite tell how old they are or if it is a young boy or girl. They smile up at Hamilton and hold out a hand. “Good Luck!”

Hamilton smiles and shakes the offered hand. "And best of luck to you, Miss."

 _‘Emerald Ham’s’_ lips pull into a straight line. "I'm not a _Miss._ "

Hamilton frowns, pulling his hand away shamefully. "My apologies, young man..."

"Nope, not a man either." _‘Emerald Ham’_ slips their hands into silky green coat pockets, popping the _‘p’_ as they speak.

Hamilton's frown deepens with befuddlement. "I...what shall I call you, then?"

"Just Xander is fine."

Hamilton smiles. "Well, then, Xander. Best of luck."

"You too," Xander replies with a bright smile.

Hamilton looks over at the crowd, watching them all tapping eagerly on their cell phones. He looks at the stage door over his shoulder and glances at the woman. He wonders if this might be his only chance to enter the theatre. He cannot lie to himself — he is rather curious to see a play about himself, but he would rather enter these doors and inform Lin on what has happened to him as soon as possible. It is why he left the apartment to come here, after all.

He looks out at the crowd and watches them, some people wearing black shirts with his name written upon them. Everyone here adores _him_ — and it seems to be linked to this _play._ In his own time, he is not quite so adored. He is treated like vermin in congress. A mysterious man with fire hair causing nothing but a ruckus to their plans for America. He knows the whispers spoken about him, even if they subside as he walks by. _How can an illegitimate, bastard, orphan make it to congress? Perhaps President Washington is his father — he must have slept with a dark-skinned woman in the West Indies and regrets doing so?_ Hamilton frowns at the echoes of the rumours spilling in his mind like poison. _Washington was_ ** _not_ **_his father and his mother was caucasian. Regardless, Hamilton is still an impure bastard, so how could these people in the future praise him for something quite simple as wearing a purple coat?_

“Five minutes are up! The poll results are in!” The woman’s magnified voice screeches in Hamilton’s ear, causing him to flinch. “And the winner is…” the woman is handed a cell phone and she reads the contents on it briefly. “Purple Ham wins by two percent! A close battle, for sure!”

The crowd cheers and it takes Hamilton a moment to realize they are cheering for him. “Congratulations, Purple Ham! You have just won two tickets for you and a friend to see tonight’s show!” The woman says in the strange horn before handing Hamilton two pieces of parchment — he assumes these are his tickets.

He frowns at the second ticket. “I do not require a second ticket,” he mutters to the woman.

He notices a forlorn Xander and smiles, walking over to tap their shoulder; the crowd cheers. “It would be most gracious if you would accept the second ticket, Xander.”

Xander’s eyes widen as they nod enthusiastically. They accept the ticket and the applause grows enormously around the two of them.

“Well, look at that. I guess they’re gonna see the show together. How sweet!” The woman commentates with a sincere smile. “This is probably the best outcome that could have come from this, honestly. Enjoy the show, Hamilton's!”

Hamilton follows Xander towards the theatre lineup, staring at the ticket in his hand with neutral features.

“The contest was totally rigged. That guy looks nothing like Hamilton!” He hears one of the previous contestants grumble in the sea of people as he passes through.

“But he kinda looks like the real Alexander Hamilton, which is so much cooler. Nobody else thought to try that!” The person beside them replies loudly.

“Didn’t Hamilton have grey hair? This guy’s a redhead!” The contestant bites back. “And his coat isn’t even historically accurate! Nobody wore fucking _purple_ back then!”

“Dude, chill out. It’s just a costume contest…” Hamilton misses the rest of their sentence as he continues walking, keeping his head down and desiring nothing but to return home as his head buzzes.

* * *

If Hamilton had known Lin was not required to be at the theatre early, he would not have urged him to leave so hastily. Perhaps Lin could have witnessed whatever had happened to Hamilton and stayed home, but alas, life will not cooperate. Instead, he is trapped inside a busy theatre, following the young Xander as if he is a child clinging to their parents. 

They each hand their tickets to one of the employees of the establishment, and they are both pointed in the direction of the East Staircase to find their seats.

“Thanks for offering me the second ticket. That was really nice of you,” Xander says as they climb the stairs.

“You are quite welcome,” Hamilton replies with a friendly grin.

“It’s no wonder people voted for you,” Xander begins. “You’re so method.”

Hamilton yerks his head in Xander’s direction, absolutely baffled at their statement. “Method?”

“You speak in this crazy accent and only use old gentleman-like language. It’s cool. I dig it,” Xander replies as they finally ascend the staircase and turn into one of the open doors leading to the theatre. “You didn’t just make a costume to win — you showed up pretty much _as_ Hamilton and everyone loved it!”

Hamilton feels his cheeks warm; he prays it is hidden in the dim lighting of the theatre.

“I just realized that I never asked, but what’s your name?” Xander inquires as they look between their ticket and the rows as they pass by, Hamilton still close behind.

“Alex,” Hamilton replies, deciding to continue adopting the name Lin had used to introduce Hamilton to his friends and colleagues.

Xander regards him with precipitous brows. “Are you serious?”

Hamilton simpers and shrugs. “I am.”

Xander rolls their eyes but he catches the smirk upon their lips before turning to resume searching for their seats. “How convenient,” Xander mumbles. Hamilton hums with amusement. “Our names put together make _Alexander_ — and we’re both dressed as Hamilton.”

“Sharing the same name with such a man truly allows leeway to easily _become_ Alexander Hamilton,” Hamilton replies with a cheeky smirk; an astute recognition of the hidden joke Xander has assuredly missed behind his words.

Xander snorts and shakes their head. “You’re ridiculous,” they respond with a smile over their shoulder before returning their attention to the rows. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, _Alex._ You really made my day by giving me this ticket.”

“I am certain you would have won it yourself had I not come,” Hamilton counters, his stomach swirling with that familiar feeling; guilt.

“Oh, hey! Here's our seats,” Xander announces rather abruptly, causing Hamilton to nearly bump into the exceptionally smaller person. “I’m in the aisle seat, so you can go in first.”

Hamilton shifts into the row and awkwardly sits in the strange folded seat. It takes him _at least_ fifteen seconds to realize that he has to push the bottom of the seat down and sit on it to keep it from folding again.

“Oh my god, we love your costumes!” One of the ladies to Hamilton’s left says in a low but chipper tone.

“Thanks! We won the costume contest — er, well, _he_ won the costume contest and was kind enough to give me the second ticket,” Xander replies cheerfully, scratching behind their ear nervously.

“Oh, we would have thought you two know each other with the costumes and everything — that’s still cool though,” the young woman beside Hamilton replies politely. She looks vaguely familiar but he cannot quite fathom _why._ “I’m Julia and this is my girlfriend, Grace.”

Xander leans over to give a little wave and introduces themselves. Hamilton finally places why Julia looks familiar; she remarkably resembles Mrs. Reynolds with her long dark-blonde hair and chocolate eyes — wait, Julia’s eyes are seafoam-green, nothing like _hers_. He had almost been fooled that they were brown in the dim theatre. _Perhaps there could be a distant relation between the two?_ Hamilton wordlessly ponders if he has any great-grandchildren in the future. _Could any person he has passed on the street be related to him?_

Hamilton blinks quickly, realizing he is being looked at expectantly. He has not yet introduced himself. “I am Alex.”

Grace bursts out laughing. “Wait, don’t tell me it’s short for Alexander.”

“It is,” Hamilton replies seriously, to which he earns laughter from the two ladies.

“That’s amazing. Love that,” Grace replies with a wide grin.

Hamilton’s face twists into an odd assortment of befuddled-amusement. “Ah, Thank you?”

“Oh, hey — by the way—” Grace cuts in, abruptly changing the subject quick enough to precipitate Hamilton’s daze. “If anyone wants any snacks, don’t hesitate to ask. I’m loaded with ‘em,” Grace whispers in a conspiring manner with an eyebrow lifted and a playful smirk tugging her lips.

“Yo, that’s awesome!” Xander replies with a wink and a chuckle.

They fall into amicable silence, the two women turning to each other to whisper amongst themselves excitedly, and Xander tapping on their phone eagerly with a large grin upon their face. Hamilton sits patiently with his hands folded on his lap and watches the lower section of the theatre fill up at a sluggish pace. He feels quite anxious to be here, especially because Lin had not mentioned the play prior to their luncheon — Hamilton had discovered it by mistake when speaking to his colleagues at the restaurant. Lin evidently preferred Hamilton _not_ knowing about the play. He silently worries if there are disastrous reasons for the avoidance of the topic — beyond the general embarrassment that comes with accidentally meeting the man who you based the subject matter of your entire play upon, of course.

Hamilton considers standing up and excusing himself from the theatre, then sneaking into the backstage area where Lin had dragged him through the day previous. He must expound theories with Lin about his strangely vivid memory-like dream that rendered him defenceless, in pain — and with a bloody nose, no less. _Surely that cannot be healthy for a man to bleed from his nose after such a migraine and hallucination occurrence?_

Something, however, keeps Hamilton’s bosom planted in this strange-folding chair. _Perhaps it is that same feeling he had acquired when he had ‘typed’ his name on the ‘Google’? Morbid curiosity._ He wishes to know what Lin is aware of, regarding his life, and perhaps discover anything that has happened _after_ seventeen-ninety-four. _This could be why he was brought here? Perhaps he is destined to watch a play about himself — to be reminded of his achievements and failures as if God is somehow warning him?_ He never quite believed in God before, but after falling through a tear in the universe and finding himself stumbling around in the future, he is far more open-minded than he ever could have been before. 

As the lighting in the theatre dims and the settled crowds murmuring floats away, Hamilton feels his insides anchor him further into the seat, causing him to somewhat slouch as his anxiety begins to peak. _‘I should leave. I should not be here. I should leave. I should not be here. I should—’_

 _“Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your King, George The Third,”_ a disembodied voice — that sounds suspiciously like Jon’s with a strange British accent — booms through the theatre. The audience erupts with clamorous applause. _“Welcome to Hamilton.”_

The vocational audience grows louder and Hamilton feels his heart swell with a peculiar mix of emotions; so many, in fact, that he cannot even fathom the thought of naming any of them. All he knows is he is quite overwhelmed and sits absolutely still as the audience surrounding him is energized with excitement and anticipation.

 _“At this time, please silence all cell phones and other electronic devices. All photography and video recording is strictly prohibited.”_ A few voices scattered across the theatre chuckle. _“Thank you, and enjoy_ **_my_ ** _show.”_ More laughter fills the room and Hamilton’s lips twist into a bewildered frown. _‘What the hell is happening?’_

The audience cheers vociferously and Hamilton decides to politely clap along, realizing he has not quite reacted to anything yet. He is extremely disoriented, having to exude much effort to clap three times before his hands heavily flop onto his lap again.

> **||Bump bum bum bum bum bum Bump||**

A spotlight shines on what appears to be a bald black man as he enters the stage, all alone. It takes another second for Hamilton to realize it is Leslie.

> _♫How does a bastard, orphan, son of a whore_
> 
> _And a Scotsman, dropped in the middle of a forgotten spot_
> 
> _In the Caribbean by providence impoverished_
> 
> _In squalor, grow up to be a hero and a scholar?♫_

Hamilton barely has enough time to register all of the words before another man — Anthony — enters the stage.

> _♫The ten-dollar founding father without a father_
> 
> _Got a lot farther by working a lot harder_
> 
> _By being a lot smarter_
> 
> _By being a self-starter_
> 
> _By fourteen, they placed him in charge of a trading charter♫_

Hamilton watches in complete and utter awe as Daveed enters the stage and continues this outlandishly-tuned song. It is nothing like he has ever heard before. As he feels himself sink deeper into the peculiar melody, he finds himself frozen when Lin walks center stage and proclaims:

> _♫Alexander Hamilton_
> 
> _My name is Alexander Hamilton_
> 
> _And there's a million things I haven't done_
> 
> _But just you wait, just you wait♫_

He watches as Pippa and Chris enter and sing their verses, quickly discovering that he is witnessing his entire childhood contained within an extravagant ballad. Hamilton is rendered speechless as the song continues; the drums and bassline orchestrating his heart, penetrating his chest with every note and beat.

The song takes a turn as harsh white lights shine upon Daveed and Oak.

> _♫We, fought with him♫_

The light shines on Anthony.

> _♫Me, I died for him♫_

The light shines on Chris.

> _♫Me, I trusted him♫_

The light shines on Rene, Jasmine, and Pippa.

> _♫Me, I loved him♫_

The light shines on Leslie.

> _♫And me, I'm the damn fool that shot him♫_

Hamilton’s heart stops and his mouth hangs agape in shock. An abundance of things are happening upon the stage, but he cannot tear his focus from Leslie's words.

> _♫There's a million things I haven't done_
> 
> _But just you wait_
> 
> _What's your name, man?_
> 
> _Alexander Hamilton♫_

The crowd cheers as the last note bangs, but Hamilton cannot breathe. _Shot. Hamilton is shot. Who shoots him?_ His question is answered as Lin — _Hamilton_ — approaches Leslie and sings:

> _♫Pardon me, are you Aaron Burr, sir?♫_

_It is all beginning to align._ Leslie is playing the role of Aaron Burr, one of his long-time colleagues and a man he may have considered a friend at some point in time. He frowns, wondering _what on earth happens to them?_ _Why the hell does Burr shoot him?_ He prays he does not die in a duel like an imbecile. 

Hamilton quickly discovers who everyone is playing: Daveed is Marquis de Lafayette, Oak is Hercules Mulligan, and Anthony is… _John Laurens._ Hamilton recalls the line: _‘I died for him’_ and feels his blood run cold. He finds himself staring at Anthony — _Laurens_ — who is watching Lin — _Hamilton_ — closely as he passionately sings as quickly as his breath allows him to. Hamilton is struck with a feeling of familiarity; he remembers Laurens sitting at the desk in their sleeping-quarters at Valley Forge, watching Hamilton with a private smile as he rants and raves about—

> _♫I am not throwing away my shot!♫_

Hamilton watches as the four of them sing together drunkenly on stage — the gazes they share with each other — and wondering why Hamilton and Laurens — _Lin and Anthony?_ — look far too intimate. Hamilton shakes his head frustratingly — it is nothing but nerves. Everyone is quite aware of the fact that they were close. Laurens was Hamilton’s best friend, after all. Lin even knows this. Hamilton mildly wonders why Lin decided to add Hercules Mulligan into their trio, but his thoughts are interrupted with a sudden burst of _The Schuyler Sisters._

Of course, Pippa plays his wife, she is the perfect match. Hamilton renders Rene and Jasmine as decent choices for Angelica and Peggy, respectively. He absently speculates if Lin had chosen the cast based on their performances rather than how they look — as none of the actors are anywhere close to resembling their characters — aside from Pippa, of course, who could convince even his dearest Betsey that she is an estranged sister of hers.

 _Why is Lin playing Hamilton? Is it purely because he is the main character?_ Hamilton feels his feet tapping along with the melody as he ponders every interaction and exchange between himself and Lin. Hamilton was asked by Lin if he is _'a fan of the show'_ — perhaps, with context clues for the word _'fan'_ , Hamilton wonders if Lin is actually the _'fan'_ in this scenario. He presumes that _'fan'_ — in this case — describes someone who admires something or someone. He should enquire Lin after the show to be absolutely certain that his assumption is correct.

The play continues on; Hamilton arguing with Samuel Seabury and then King George The Third's threat soon after. Hamilton cannot understand why everyone is laughing when all he can remember is the bloodshed this king had caused in the war. _The British had truly killed people's friends and family, so why are these people laughing!?_ Many men that Hamilton knew were killed in battle by British hands. His very own Laurens was shot and killed in a battle against the British — Hamilton quickly realizes that the song changes again. _‘So fast. It is all happening so fast.’_

> _♫Ladies and gentlemen_
> 
> _(Here comes the general)_
> 
> _The moment you've been waiting for_
> 
> _(Here comes the general)_
> 
> _The pride of Mount Vernon_
> 
> _(Here comes the general)_
> 
> _George Washington♫_

Hamilton stares in awe at the sight of General Washington, striding with pride on the stage as he approaches the audience. He blinks and recognizes that it is only Chris; his face contorts at the irony of a man _like Chris_ acting in the role of _George Washington_ in a play. For a moment, Hamilton could have sworn he was there again — in the war. The sounds of the canons and gunfire still echoing in his ears, the squeal of his horse as the beast is shot down—

Sweat trickles down his forehead and his hands grip onto his knees as he hears the canons **BOOM**

**~**

_"Reload!" Hamilton barks the order, his sword lifted high in the air. "Forward!" The line of men who had previously reloaded clumsily switch with the current line. "Aim!" The men settle upon the grass, assuming their positions, pointing their muskets towards the fog. Hamilton yerks his sword forward. "Fire!"_

_The sounds of muskets shooting deafen his ears and it takes him a moment to realize his own horse has been shot out from underneath him. Hamilton rolls over as the beast falls; he loses the ability to breathe as his back compacts with the hard ground. He wheezes, gripping his chest in a frenzied panic as his lungs fail to function. The humid heat boils his skin, leaving it shining with sweat and grime. His horse cries beside him, having narrowly avoided crushing him in their plunder._

_He hears others bark orders down the line and he stares at the sky, thinking only of his Dear Laurens and praying that he survives this battle—_

**~**

Hamilton blinks rapidly as he feels a gentle hand tapping his shoulder. His breathing is laboured — he is no longer on the battlefield. He is in the theatre, watching a play about his life. He glances to his left, Julia considering him with worry as she pats his shoulder.

"Are you okay?" Julia asks in a low whisper, gently lowering her hand as Hamilton catches his breath. “You seem pale and... _tense._ ”

"I am well. Thank you," Hamilton lies as he refocuses his attention towards the stage. The song has changed again and he is silently grateful for the overwhelmingly quick pacing of this play. Hamilton, Laurens, and Burr sing about _‘the ladies’_ together, and Hamilton cannot resist the snort that escapes him.

Eliza takes the spot in the center of the stage, singing about being helpless to Hamilton, and he feels warmth spread throughout his chest, unable to avoid the smile spreading across his features. He watches with a fond grin as he is able to relive the moment they fell in love. The ballroom had been rather overheated that evening — a stark contrast to the brittle-cold winter outdoors. He recalls reuniting with an old friend, Kitty Livingston, and obstreperously jesting and flirting with her before she introduces him to Elizabeth Schuyler. He had recalled meeting her two years prior on his _unexpectedly extended_ trip to Albany in the fall of 1777. It was not until early 1780 when he had met Eliza again at _this_ ball. Laurens was in South Carolina for nearly an entire year in 1780 — for the elven months that he was gone, Hamilton had fallen for Eliza. She was kind, intelligent, and rather exciting. He had never met another woman as _entrancing_ as his Dearest Betsey—

> _♫All right, all right, that's what I'm talking about!_
> 
> _Now, everyone give it up for the maid of honour, Angelica Schuyler!♫_

Hamilton frowns at the sight. This is the first time whilst watching this _damned play_ that something feels terribly... _wrong._ He stares at the scene playing out before him with furrowed brows. He does not recall Laurens attending his wedding as his best man. He had asked him to come, but he had refused — countless times.

> _♫To the union! (To the union)_
> 
> _To the revolution!_
> 
> _And the hope that you provide_
> 
> _You provide (You provide)_
> 
> _May you always (Always)_
> 
> _Be satisfied_
> 
> _Rewind♫_

The lights on the stage darken as everyone spins in reverse, seemingly recreating the previous song all over again, but now from Angelica’s perspective. _Nothing seems right._ Angelica had not attended this ball, and neither had Laurens. Angelica had eloped with John Church at this time, whilst Laurens was in South Carolina before becoming a prisoner of war in Philadelphia. And the word _‘satisfied’_ is repeated multiple times — as if hinting that Hamilton, himself, will not be satisfied with his marriage.

> _♫He will never be satisfied_
> 
> _I will never be satisfied♫_

The rage boiling his veins leaves his fingers twitching and his jaw tensing. The crowd cheers uproariously as the lights on the stage fade, but Hamilton cannot find the will to do as the others surrounding him. The following songs seem to pass by in a rage-filled blur for Hamilton, only catching phrases such as:

> _“I may not live to see our glory.”_
> 
> _“The story of tonight.”_
> 
> _“Wait for it.”_
> 
> _“Hamilton takes and he takes and he takes…”_
> 
> _“Stay Alive.”_

He regains focus at the mention of Charles Lee, gritting his teeth. Nothing is happening in order. _Everything feels_ ** _wrong._ ** Hamilton grips his head as the buzzing and ringing sounds echoing inside his mind returns. He feels as if his life is flashing before his eyes, swirling around him in both vivid detail and a blurred mess — chaotic like the winds of a storm.

He watches in horror as they count to ten and Laurens shoots Charles Lee. _He feels his heart pounding, the rain drizzling on his face and the pure relief in seeing Laurens unharmed. He can see the fury in Laurens’ silvery-steel blue eyes, seeming to have greyed over the years — reflecting the dark looming clouds above them. His queue is loose, his blonde hair darkened and slicked from the rain, and his lips parted slightly as he breathes heavily, the adrenaline coursing through his veins. His hand on the pistol trembles as he wishes to shoot again, but Hamilton and Edwards cry to Lee and Laurens, begging them to just, “Let it go, dammit!”_ —

> _“Call me son one more time!”_ Hamilton yells furiously into Washington's face, the General’s features twisting into shock and rage at his Lieutenant Colonel’s outburst.

Hamilton is dragged back to the present, releasing his hands from the arm-rests the moment he discovers how _tight_ his grip is. He ignores the obvious looks of concern from the two younger people on each side of him, keeping his steeled gaze focused on the play.

> _“Go home, Alexander…”_ Washington grumbles, his voice soft, but his tone fierce enough to cut through the theatre. _“That’s an order from your commander…”_

Hamilton feels himself coldly smirk at the recollection of the moment he quit the army. History — or Lin — had mixed with this fact as well. _He remembers the satisfaction of ripping his aide-de-camp ribbon off of his coat and throwing it on the floor, nearly landing on His Excellency’s boots. He vividly remembers the unplaceable look in the older man’s deep-blue-eyes as they widen, his firm lips twitching as they open a centimeter. Hamilton had turned sharply on his heels and marched out of their headquarters, not stopping to respond to Tilghman as he briskly stepped onto the porch and left. He was aware that he would have to return for his belongings, but he needed the walk — he needed to clear his mind._

Hamilton had returned home with his wife, and as the play insinuates, this may have been the time they had conceived his pride and joy — their eldest son. _Philip._ Hamilton smiles as Eliza grasps his hand; he rests the other upon her stomach in awe, knowing they were creating life.

> _♫Let this be the first chapter where you decide to stay,♫_

Eliza sings beautifully, her ethereal tone caressing Hamilton's soul and keeping him firmly seated beside her.

> _♫That would be enough...♫_

Lafayette, his friend, his brother in arms. He had always fought for Hamilton to receive a command. It had finally paid off after Hamilton quit the army, and he only returned to war after Tench Tilghman had delivered _the letter_ to him, in person. His smile had gravely aged since the first time they had met — he was the only original aide-de-camp still working for Washington. He was always loyal, always brightening everyone’s day as he and Meade would partake in jesting and teasing the others. He was the perfect man to remain out of them all, to be there for the new aides — to be there to deliver the General’s letter to Hamilton.

> _♫History has its eyes on you...♫_

Hamilton’s skin dampens and a chill racks through his bones, digging into his core. He glances around at the theatre, everyone watches the play eagerly as Hamilton stands center stage with a light shining on him. He feels vulnerable and naked to this crowd — even though he, himself, is watching along in the shadows of the audience. Lin has taken his place in their eyes, standing proudly and commanding the others with ease as _The Battle of Yorktown_ occurs.

They are victorious and Hamilton distantly hears the drums playing _‘The World Turned Upside Down’_ — and _‘Yankee Doodle,’_ upon Lafayette’s request. The British are defeated and questioning what comes next after the war — Hamilton pauses. He frowns, realizing he had not paid any attention to how America functions in the future. Surely they must be fine, but it still causes a ponder to strike him.

> _♫Dear Theodosia, what to say to you...♫_

Hamilton cannot help the grin taking over his features, watching with pride as Burr and Hamilton on stage praise their newborn children. He thinks of Philip now and how old he has grown — only twelve years of age and already quite the respectable young gentleman. Hamilton is proud of all of his children, grateful to have the gift of their lives in his, carrying his name and filling his heart after so long without a family.

Hamilton barely registers Eliza’s looming figure in the background until she begins approaching him from behind in his bliss. Laurens appears to the right, shone in blue with a hopeful grin upon his face.

> _♫I may not live to see our glory...♫_
> 
> _“Alexander? There's a letter for you from South Carolina,”_ Eliza says softly.
> 
> _“It's from John Laurens. I'll read it later,”_ Hamilton replies, his smile unmoving, his posture relaxed.
> 
> _♫But I will gladly join the fight♫_
> 
> Eliza’s lips tug downward, the letter in her hand fumbling as her grip tightens. She barely glances at it before replying softly. _“No. It's from his father.”_
> 
> _“His father?”_ Hamilton turns around, baffled. He furrows his brows at Eliza as he slowly stands up, his legs trembling and his hands gripping the chair as he does so — as if it is the only thing keeping him from collapsing.
> 
> _♫And when our children tell our story♫_
> 
> _“Will you read it to me?”_ Hamilton requests with a tilt of his head and a solemn smile. His eyes glisten and his mouth is trembling; his arm still painfully gripping onto his chair.
> 
> _♫They'll tell the story of tonight♫_
> 
> _"On Tuesday the 27th, my son was killed in a gunfight against British troops retreating from South Carolina,”_ Eliza begins, her fingers holding the letter visibly trembling as she reads it. _“The war was already over. As you know, John dreamed of emancipating and recruiting 3,000 men for the first all-black military regiment.”_ Eliza takes a moment to breathe, unwilling to look up from the letter. _“His dream of freedom for these men dies with him."_
> 
> _♫Tomorrow there'll be more of us...♫_
> 
> _“Alexander. Are you alright?”_ Eliza whispers gently, leaning closer to console her silent husband. He looks broken, shattered like glass — his heart is nothing but a broken mirror, reflecting the pieces of who he used to be. He blinks...and it is gone. There is _nothing_ behind his eyes — they have shifted into something _ice-cold_ and _calculated_ as he stares at Laurens’ ghost.
> 
> Hamilton frowns and looks away, his eyes determined as he swiftly brushes past his wife without a care. _“I have so much work to do.”_

Hamilton is hypnotized as the show continues on in a blur. He works himself to the bone, writing day and night as everyone around him grows more frustrated with his relentless nature. He cannot say how accurate this play is because he, himself, barely remembers the time directly after Laurens’ death. He had been too busy to focus on anything other than work for _years_. If he is to be honest, it was not until _very recently_ when Hamilton had finally snapped out of it and decided to resign as the Treasury Secretary. He believed the pressures of the job had kept him distant from his family. _Perhaps it was more complicated than such._

> _♫I am not throwing away my shot!♫_

This is Hamilton’s last proclamation on stage before the lights disappear like a candle being blown away in an instant, the final note leaving the audience with open space to cheer and applaud vigorously. Hamilton sits utterly silent and still in his seat, gaping towards the stage in the dark void of the theatre, his head pounding and his throat as dry as the sun.

Hamilton is... _speechless..._

“Hey, d'you want some Oreos?” Hamilton forcibly blinks himself back into reality and looks over at Grace who is leaning over Julia with a black pastry in her hand. “They’re rainbow, so the icing has different colours. Figured you'd want the purple one,” Grace adds with a smile big enough to squeeze her eyes.

Hamilton stares at the foreign food in her palm. “What is an Oreo?”

Grace’s smile falters. “You’ve never had an Oreo before?” Her smile returns at full force. “It’s a cookie! They're delicious. You look like you could use one after that intense first act.”

Hamilton extends his gratitude with the smallest grin, barely twitching his trembling lips upwards as he accepts the Oreo. He nibbles on it and swallows, his smile growing a tad. The purple filling tastes marvellous, truly a wonderfully overt contrast to the bitter taste of the blackened pastry. Hamilton modestly finishes the Oreo and graciously thanks her for the treat.

“Oh, it’s no problem,” Grace replies, collectively waving her hand at Hamilton before nibbling on an Oreo with red filling. “Let me know if you’d like another. I've got an entire box.”

“No thank you,” Hamilton replies coolly before turning his attention to Xander who is sitting down beside him.

“The lineup for the restroom was long as fuck,” Xander declares jadedly as they sink deeper into their seat. “I’m so glad I didn’t miss the beginning of act two!” 

“Would you like a gay Oreo?” Grace asks, leaning further in front of Julia — who pushes herself further into her seat as she takes a small bite of her Oreo — and reaches to deliver the green-filled Oreo to Hamilton's excitable neighbour. Xander nods vigorously and accepts the treat before stuffing it entirely in their mouth. Hamilton smiles fondly at the scene.

“Oreos truly impart joy and gayness upon us all,” Hamilton appends nonchalantly. “I would like to take upon your offer for another, my dear.”

Grace and Julia share a look and chuckle before Grace hands Hamilton another Oreo — this one with an orange filling, much like Julia’s. “Thank you for your most _Grace-ious_ offer,” Hamilton says before nibbling on the cookie.

“You did _not_ just turn my name into a pun,” Grace replies with deadpanned features. Julia smirks slyly, barely managing to contain her laughter.

Hamilton winks and Grace laughs loudly, shaking her head and shoving her box of Oreos into her purse. “That’s it, no more Oreos for you.” Hamilton laughs at the clear jest in her tone.

“Boo — I didn’t make a bad pun out of your name — can I have another?” Xander asks briskly with the most dashing grin.

“Absolutely,” Grace replies earnestly, digging into her purse to pull out another Oreo for Xander.

The lights begin to fade and the murmuring in the theatre fades into silence. Hamilton’s anxiety skyrockets as the theatre lights are completely blown away, leaving them in inky-black darkness.

> _♫Seventeen. Se- se- seventeen..._
> 
> _Se- se- seventeen..._
> 
> _Seventeen-Eighty-Nine♫_

Thomas Jefferson — the bane of Hamilton’s existence. Daveed — who had played Lafayette in the previous act — is now portraying the role of Jefferson. He prances about on stage and Hamilton feels the scowl on his face deepen. Suddenly, they are in a cabinet meeting with a peculiar beat and speaking in rhythmic rhymes. _‘Daveed could out-speak Jefferson any day.’_ Hamilton smirks at the thought.

The play moves on quickly, introducing Eliza and Philip on the piano. Hamilton frowns, realizing Anthony is now portraying the role of his eldest son. His lips twist into a strange mixture of discomfort and awe at how well Anthony has shifted. He is truly a brilliant actor since he is _clearly_ playing a new character. The resemblance still leaves a lingering discomfort within the pit of his stomach, but he smiles anyway at Eliza teaching their son piano and French.

If he allows his mind to drift, he can surely hear the keys of the piano in their parlour being smashed clumsily. He smiles fondly at the memory of finding Eliza laughing with crimson cheeks as Philip attempts to teach his baby sister how to play the piano; he was only six whilst Angie was four.

> _"I can't stop 'till I get this plan through Congress…"_ Hamilton replies solemnly to his wife and sister-in-law after they beg him to take a break.

Hamilton's skin becomes clammy as the music changes and the lights fade. Jasmine saunters on stage wearing a red dress and her hair flowing freely over her shoulders. _'No, no, no, this cannot be happening…'_

> _"Alexander's by himself...I'll let him tell it,"_ Burr says slyly before exiting the stage.

Hamilton watches in horror as his affair is played out for everyone to witness. All eyes are on him and he frowns, wondering how anyone knows about this. He has not told anyone. _Perhaps Mr. Reynolds tells everyone?_ He had only threatened to tell Eliza — nobody would believe him if he had just walked around town with such a rumour. But it was not a rumour; _it was true._

He deciphers that the pacing of this act is far quicker than the previous one. The deal he had made with Jefferson to establish the National Bank leads seamlessly into Burr running against his father-in-law. Another cabinet battle proceeds and Hamilton begins to feel nauseous with the alacrity of events passing by.

> _♫It’s must be nice, it must be nice_
> 
> _To have Washington on your side♫_

Something _peculiar_ happens. The show continues further beyond anything Hamilton recognizes. He realizes he had witnessed his past and present — now he is seeing his future as Washington steps down as president.

> _♫George Washington’s going home♫_

Hamilton covers his mouth as it hangs open, staring in consternation at the sight. This is truly something Washington would do, but he cannot begin to fathom the thought of anyone other than _him_ being in charge.

> _♫We’re gonna teach ‘em how to say goodbye_
> 
> _One last time♫_

Hamilton lowers his hand as his features shift into a scowl. Jon — _King George The Third_ — enters the stage to mock America _again._ The play continues quickly, Hamilton is barely able to register what is happening as he is supposedly fired by a President John Adams — _surely this must be hell_ — and he is approached by Burr, Jefferson, and Madison about his affair.

> _“Burr, how can I trust you won’t use this against me the next time we go toe-to-toe?”_
> 
> _“Alexander, rumours only grow…” ♫And we both know what we know...♫_

Hamilton is alone, center stage, to make his choice. His life surrounds him in a hurricane, swirling and spiralling out of control. Hamilton sings about his writing and where it brought him. He finally decides:

> _♫I’ll write my way out_
> 
> _Overwhelm them with honesty_
> 
> _This is the eye of the hurricane, this is the only_
> 
> _Way I can protect my legacy♫_

The storm surrounding him sings louder.

> _♫Wait for it, wait for it, wait for it, wait—♫_

Hamilton takes a quill from Maria Reynolds and begins to write:

> _♫The Reynolds Pamphlet♫_

The stage is a flurry of paper and people surrounding Hamilton just as the hurricane had before. He stands there as he is taunted and ridiculed for publishing about his own affair. _‘Why the hell would I do such a thing? What was I thinking!?’_ He watches as his own son reads the publication and is taunted for his father’s sins; Hamilton feels his blood boil at the sight.

Angelica pushes him further down as the others twirl and prances about on the stage in glee for Hamilton facing the consequences of his misdeeds. Hamilton grabs his head as it begins to hum in the low tune that threatens another migraine.

> _♫His poor wife...♫_

Hamilton blinks, feeling tears beginning to prickle the corners of his eyes as it all goes quiet, leaving Eliza alone on stage. His guilt eats him alive as he witnesses her anguish and despair over his betrayal. Her voice is a powerful beacon leaving him stiff like a statue in his seat. He has feared this very reaction from his wife but it appears that his attempts to avoid her finding out are futile.

She burns the love letters he had written her — the very same ones in which he poured his heart and soul into. She was his light when they had met and she had stolen his affections when he did not wish to share them. He was alone and lost when they had fallen in love and he still cannot fathom that she was real and not in his imagination. She had offered him everything he had dreamed of and he had burned it.

> _♫I hope that you burn…♫_

Hamilton agrees; he deserves nothing else but to burn in hell for the sins he has committed. _How could Lin attempt to convince him he is unworthy of such a fate?_ Hamilton’s fury returns when he is stricken with an epiphany. Lin _wrote_ this play — he is _punishing him_. He had tricked Hamilton with his earnest dark eyes and bright smile. _He had wanted Hamilton to discover this, why else would he have invited him to the restaurant?_ Lin is taunting him through this play and Hamilton’s rage almost pushes him to stand from his seat and march backstage — but Philip is now front and center.

Hamilton pauses, holding onto the armrests like they are a lifeline as his son is now in the light, center stage, and smiling with so much life. Nineteen and like his father, but bolder. Hamilton cannot resist smiling at Philip, who shines brighter than the sun.

> _♫Ladies, I'm lookin for a Mr. George Eacker_
> 
> _Made a speech last week, our Fourth of July speaker_
> 
> _He disparaged my father's legacy in front of a crowd_
> 
> _I can't have that, I'm making my father proud.♫_

Hamilton’s smile falters. He recalls Washington’s rage towards Laurens after he had foolishly duelled Charles Lee. He watches his son challenge this man to a duel in _his_ name and he physically shakes his head at the sight. Hamilton cannot find his voice as he wishes to scream. _‘No, son. You do not need to defend my honour to make me proud. How can you not see you already make me proud?’_

Hamilton does not say this to Philip. Instead, he gives him his guns and duelling advice. _‘No. Do not let him go, you imbecile!’_

> _“Make me proud, son.”_

_‘No!’_

> _♫My name is Philip_
> 
> _I am a poet_
> 
> _And I'm a little nervous, but I can't show it_
> 
> _I'm sorry, I'm a Hamilton with pride_
> 
> _You talk about my father, I cannot let it slide.♫_

Hamilton watches in horror as his son politely converses but Eacker is ready to go on. _‘Stop. make it stop!’_ Hamilton feels defenceless as his voice refuses to work.

> _♫Grab your pistol (confer with your men)_
> 
> _The duel will commence after we count to ten (count to ten!)_
> 
> _Look 'em in the eye, aim no higher_
> 
> _Summon all the courage you require_
> 
> _Then slowly and clearly aim your gun towards the sky.♫_

Hamilton’s heart sinks deeper into his chest; the pain is sharp and his breathing is laboured.

> _♫One, two, three, four, five, six, seven_ — _♫_

Hamilton startles at the sound of gunfire and stares at his son as he is shot and carried away. His mouth and his mind remain utterly silent as he watches Hamilton and Eliza comforting their son, stroking his hair, petting his hand, singing with him — until his final breath.

Eliza’s anguished scream cuts through the silent theatre like gunfire. 

Hamilton does not feel fury or despair; he does not feel anything. The only remaining thought in his head, repeating like an army drill in his head is simply, _‘I did this.’_ It may have been Eacker’s bullet cutting through his son, but it was Hamilton's pistol — it was his legacy — it was his fault.

Eliza forgives Hamilton and he frowns — he does not deserve her forgiveness and he does not deserve the town’s pity. He understands now — this play is not only a reminder of who he was and who he is. It is a warning of who he will _become._ He is a poison in his family’s life and a parasite to congress. Quitting his job was never enough and it was never going to _be_ enough. It is too late for Hamilton — Lin is warning him that he is doomed regardless of his pathetic efforts to fix the shattered pieces of his life.

He does not even care as the play moves onwards to politics again — a new election between Burr and Jefferson. No sensible people run for president after Washington resigns. America plummets in the shadows of the revolution — a revolution that Hamilton played a massive role in. _He should have remained on the island._

Hamilton promotes Jefferson rather than Burr — claiming he is the better of the two options simply because he has beliefs. This infuriates Burr, causing him to challenge Hamilton to a duel. Hamilton accepts this fate, watching the remaining scenes with numb satisfaction as he witnesses _Hamilton_ _get what he deserves._

_“I imagine death so much it feels more like a memory.”_

This line resonates with Hamilton. He had thought about death far too often in his life. Ironic how his life had been filled with more death and destruction rather than life. _His mother had died because of him. His cousin had died because of him. His son will die because of him. And Laurens had died because of him._

Hamilton is shot by Burr and not a single tear spills from Hamilton’s eyes. He is absolutely still, cold, and distant as he continues watching the play — his body does not feel like his own. He seems to be floating in a dark void, watching his wife as she declares she lives another fifty years and tells all of their stories. She interviews every soldier that fought by his side, raises funds to build a monument for Washington, and speaks out against slavery. Hamilton feels his fingers again, he wiggles them as his heartbeat returns. She is asking if she has done enough for him — _why would she do such a thing for fifty years after he dies?_

Hamilton watches Lin lead her to the edge of the stage, leaving her alone to look out into the audience. His eyes interlock with hers and they both gasp, as if his lungs had regained their ability to function yet again. The theatre is submerged into darkness — Hamilton finally cries. He keeps his mouth closed, aiming to be as quiet as possible whilst his cheeks sting with the rush of tears pouring out of his eyes.

The theatre lights up again and the crowd cheers uproariously as Lin takes a bow. He turns around, signalling to the other actors and they all form into a line. Hamilton can tell everyone around him stands up in their applause, but he stays firmly in his seat, staring at the blurry sight of the actors bowing for the audience. Hamilton suddenly realizes he was watching a play — _what did he think was happening before?_

He watches everyone on stage split off and exit through the wings, and the crowd begins shuffling out of the theatre. Hamilton startles at the feeling of something tapping his upper arm.

“Hey, you can have the rest,” Grace says in a soothing tone, holding out the box of Oreos as an offering. “Y'look like you need it.”

Hamilton smiles up at her, wiping his eyes vigorously and sniffling like a man stricken with a fever. “Thank you,” he whispers kindly as he accepts the box of Oreos. They shuffle past him until they reach the aisle.

“Hey, you guys wanna come with us? We're thinking of getting dinner,” Julia asks with a smile aimed directly towards Xander and Hamilton.

“Sure, I’d love to!” Xander replies brightly. “How about you, Alex? You wanna come?”

Hamilton stares up at the three of them and returns his attention to the empty stage. “No. I have prior arrangements. I thank you for your invitation. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance ladies—” Hamilton pauses, absently chewing his bottom lip. “—and Xander.”

They smile and say their farewells before leaving the theatre with the rest of the crowd. Hamilton remains in his seat, clutching the box of Oreos, and staring at the vacant stage. He does not move until a man shines a bright light into his eyes.

“Hey buddy, the show’s over,” the man says impatiently. “The maintenance crew’s gotta come through and clean the theatre.”

“I wish to speak with Lin,” Hamilton replies quietly, still clutching the box of Oreos.

“Yeah, so does everyone else,” the man grumbles, rolling his eyes. “The guy’s busy. Leave now or I’ll have to remove you forcibly.”

Hamilton’s jaw sets as he scowls at the man. “Then so be it. I am not leaving until I am able to speak with Lin.”

The man exhales before turning around to wave someone over. “We got a man refusing to leave. Help me get rid of this guy?”

Hamilton fiercely struggles within their abrupt grasp around his arms that is _still_ clutching the box of Oreos. He wiggles and heaves out furiously as they drag him from the theatre. “Unhand me this instant! I only came here to speak with Lin!”

“Should we call the cops? This guy’s fucking crazy,” one of the men holding Hamilton whispers to the other with worried features.

“I hate it when psycho fans show up,” the other guy replies with a shake of his head. Hamilton elbows him in the stomach, causing him to release Hamilton and wrap his arms around himself with a groan. “Radio for backup! Tell them to call the cops — we have a violent fan at the theatre!”

Hamilton slumps against the other man’s grip, staring wide-eyed at the injured man as he bends over in pain. The side doors in the hallway burst open and Hamilton smiles at the man on the other side.

“What the fuck is goin’ on here?” Anthony gawks with raised brows.

Another person behind him is rubbing their face tiredly. “Anthony, I told you not to open the door.”

“But I swear I heard —” Anthony pauses when he finally notices Hamilton; he smiles. “Alex! Hey, bro! What’re you doin’ here?”

Hamilton leans closer to Anthony, still held by the man who was not injured. “I am here to speak with Lin. These men do not believe me!”

Anthony laughs, causing everyone to stare. “Dude, let him go. He’s friends with Lin.”

“Oh, sorry,” the man says as he releases Hamilton from his grip.

“He still elbowed me in the gut!” The other man cries out.

“My sincerest apologies, sir,” Hamilton says sheepishly. “It was an accident. You were tugging my arms rather aggressively.”

“So, should I _not_ tell backup security to call the cops then, or…?”

Anthony’s eyes widen. “No! Jesus — Alex, come here.” Anthony grabs Hamilton’s elbow; he nearly drops the box of Oreos. 

Hamilton blinks ineptly as the doors close behind them. "I had injured the man. Please, I must—"

"Oh, Randall? Don't worry about him— he'll be fine," Anthony replies, waving Hamilton off with an easy grin. He begins walking down the hallway and Hamilton quickly follows. "I think everyone was taking bets on who would punch him first if I'm being honest. The guy is a fuckin' douchebag."

Hamilton's lips pinch as he fumbles with the box of Oreos. Anthony carries on about some topic or another, but Hamilton does not focus on such. His mind has gone blank since the play ended.

"Anyway, here's Lin's dressing room," Anthony says, abruptly stopping in front of an open door.

Hamilton's mind resets into a furious rage when he makes eye contact with the dark-eyed man who is still in his costume.

"Hey, Lin. Alex is here to see you," Anthony announces as he casually leans on the doorframe.

Lin frowns at the sight. "Ha—Alex? I thought I told you to send me a direct message if you needed anything?"

Hamilton glares at Lin, his grip nearly crushing the Oreo box. "The tablet would not function." Hamilton, in a blind rage, throws the Oreo box at Lin, causing the man to duck and squawk like a bird.

"What the fuck? Why did you just throw that at me?" Lin yells in befuddlement. "How the fuck did you get a box of Oreos?"

"A lovely young woman was kind enough to give it to me after the play ended..." Hamilton replies in a low growl. "You have quite the nerve, sir. What the hell _was_ that!?"

Lin's eyes widen and his face visibly pales as he stands up straight again. "You...didn't watch the play," Lin states in pure disbelief. Hamilton lifts a challenging brow and pulls his lips into a deeper scowl. "Oh my God, you watched it."

"I elbowed a man only moments ago. I can do much worse to you, good sir," Hamilton threatens with a gravelly voice.

"Woah, easy there," Anthony gently places a hand on Hamilton's shoulder to hold him back. 

Lin slides backwards a fraction of a step. "Hamilton, just give me a minute to explain—"

Hamilton shrugs away from Anthony's hand. "I think you said enough during the performance," Hamilton bites back. "You made your opinions of me quite clear."

"I'm sorry, did you just call him Hamilton?" Jon asks, causing Lin and Hamilton to turn their attention towards him. "What the _hell_ is going on?"

Lin groans in clear frustration. "I can explain. Please, just—just give me a minute to explain," Lin stumbles sheepishly as he grabs his head exhaustedly. Jon and Anthony gape at the scene whilst Hamilton folds his arms over his chest, frowning and waiting impatiently for Lin's response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now _we_ get to wait impatiently for Lin's response 🤪
> 
> So...Hamilton finally watched Hamilton. I spent a lot of time doing research on PTSD for this particular chapter. I really tried my best to describe dissociation and flashbacks as accurately as possible from the perspective of someone from the late 18th century. I hope y’all understand why this one took me so long to write with that context… (I also procrastinated on purpose because I was so nervous to mess up this chapter, but I had to post it eventually, so I hope this is okay. If this is inaccurate in any way, please don’t hesitate to let me know in the comments and I will fix anything ASAP. The worst thing I could do is offend people because of my misrepresentation of what a flashback or what dissociation is like. I quadruple-fact-checked everything but you never know, I can still get something wrong.)
> 
> I also took a bit to post this because I needed my friend's approval - since I wrote them into cameo roles in this chapter. I figured since this is an RPF, I can add some more amazing real people into this fic. They are always there for me, so I decided to let them be there for Hamilton because he really needed the support in this chapter. Sometimes you just need some friends with gay Oreos to brighten the mood after witnessing your entire life in a 2.5-hour play.
> 
> We are in ACT II (technically the end of the previous chapter was the inciting incident) so things will really start happening now. The next chapter will be in Lin’s perspective. I’ve already started writing it, so it theoretically shouldn't take as long as this one to be updated. Just know that it is coming and I will not give up on this story. I’ve taken on a few projects so I am busy, busy, busy! But I still find myself writing this in my free time because I love it too much. Thank you all for your patience. I’ll see you soon with the next one. (Sorry for the long author’s note! Everything below is just my bibliography.)
> 
> ***  
>  **Here are some of the resources on PTSD that I have gathered for this chapter if anyone is interested. (Some are Canadian-based research since I am Canadian, but I also found a few American sources and found their info aligned quite well with each other):**  
>  https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/post-traumatic-stress-disorder/symptoms-causes/syc-20355967  
> https://www.psychiatry.org/patients-families/ptsd/what-is-ptsd  
> https://adaa.org/understanding-anxiety/posttraumatic-stress-disorder-ptsd/symptoms  
> https://www.camh.ca/en/health-info/mental-illness-and-addiction-index/posttraumatic-stress-disorder  
>  **These two are more specific on early childhood trauma:**  
>  https://www.nctsn.org/what-is-child-trauma/trauma-types/early-childhood-trauma/effects  
> https://www.nctsn.org/what-is-child-trauma/trauma-types/disasters/hurricane-resources  
>  **These last two are specifically about PTSD in veterans (Canadian and American sources):**  
>  https://www.veterans.gc.ca/eng/health-support/mental-health-and-wellness/understanding-mental-health/ptsd-warstress  
> https://www.ptsd.va.gov/


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween!
> 
> This one isn't as long. The last few chapters were kinda flukes since I had not planned for them to be so long. The chapters get less wordy when less happens. Sorry to make y'all wait so long for a 4.2k chapter. I hope you guys like it?
> 
> Thanks for the wonderful feedback (comments, kudos, bookmarks, etc)! It really makes my day to read the comments and when I receive direct-messages about this story! I'm grateful there are people on board with my unusually strange ideas! (:
> 
> _Another ~gentle reminder~ of those PTSD and Trauma tags._

Lin considers all of the life events that have led him to this moment. He wonders if it all started in summer camp when he was a kid. He didn’t want to be stranded in the woods in some stupid summer camp, so he faked a spinal injury to go home. He remembers this as his best acting performance of his life. Now he’s here with  _ Alexander Fucking Hamilton _ throwing a box of rainbow Oreos at his head after seeing a play about himself — all the while with Anthony and Jon in the room to witness this. They’re all staring at him expectantly and he has no idea how to get himself out of this situation.  _ He’s completely fucked. _

“This is why I didn’t want to tell you about the play,” Lin begins carefully. “I didn’t want you to see what happens in your future.”

“And what of the events that have already occurred?” Hamilton replies with a scowl. “The order of events was absolutely atrocious, not to mention the completely falsified information you’ve added — and for what, exactly? For entertainment?”

“I mean — generally, yeah,” Lin replies with a sheepish shrug.

Hamilton pinches the bridge of his nose. "Do you think me a fool, good sir?"

"What?” Lin gawks at Hamilton. “No!"

"Then why make a mockery upon my name, sir?" Hamilton seethes, his body beginning to tremble with rage.

"Hey, Hamilton — calm down.” Lin waves defensively and speaks in a soothing voice. “You don't need to call me  _ sir, _ remember? Just—"

"Do not tell me to  _ 'calm down'! _ I will not  _ calm down!”  _ Hamilton yells. “You — you tell this story of my son  _ dying in a duel _ after I published writings about a _ supposed _ affair!? How dare you slander my good name!"

Lin blinks rapidly and his heartbeat picks up speed. "Woah, Hamilton. Listen, I didn't just make that up — it isn't false. It’s history—"

"You had falsified  _ multiple _ accounts of my life in your  _ play _ .” Hamilton folds his arms over his chest. “You  _ claim _ I met Laurens before I met Washington? And then you  _ claim _ that I secretly fell for my dearest Betsey's sister — who was already wed before I met her, I might add!"

"Marriage doesn't stop attraction to others, Hamilton," Lin says in a slow, challenging tone; his anger is beginning to boil.

Hamilton's jaw clenches. "You bite your tongue, sir!"

Lin practically seethes in rage. “Fuck you.”

Hamilton takes a deliberate step closer. “If you do not retract such false information from your play immediately, I am sure to convince you to do so after we go outside with two pistols and—”

"No, no —  _ fuck! _ I'm sorry that was completely uncalled for!” Lin interjects quickly, waving his hands defensively. “Hamilton, please. Listen to me," Lin mumbles dejectedly. "Yes, some events were... _ altered _ — but I assure you that the  _ Reynolds Pamphlet _ and your  _ son's death _ are entirely true."

Hamilton blinks rapidly as tears form in his eyes. "I refuse to believe that I am the cause of my son's demise, sir…" He replies softly, casting his gaze to the floor and rubbing his tears away with the palm of his hand. "I — who I am — and my abrasive ways...I knew it would be  _ my _ undoing...but  _ my son? _ I cannot bear it…"

"I'm sorry, " Lin replies earnestly. His gaze flickers behind Hamilton. " _ This _ is why he wasn't supposed to watch the fucking play, Anthony!"

Anthony blinks in surprise and lifts his hands defensively. "Hey, don't pin this shit on me!" Anthony says, completely bewildered with his brows shooting high. "I didn't give him the goddamned ticket!”

“If you didn’t, then who did?” Lin demands, his eyebrow lifting curiously and his anger simmering.

“I may have  _ accidentally _ stumbled upon a  _ ‘costume contest’ _ whilst attempting to enter the theatre, and...well,” Hamilton shoves his hand in his pocket and pulls out a  _ Hamilton _ ticket and shrugs.

“You won the Alexander Hamilton costume contest?” Jon says suddenly, barking a laugh and painfully reminding Lin —  _ again  _ — that they are  _ not alone _ in the dressing room. “Alexander Hamilton won tickets to see his own play by basically entering an Alexander Hamilton look-alike contest.” Jon pauses for a beat. “And he  _ won. _ What the  _ fuck _ is happening?”

Hamilton tosses the ticket carelessly onto the floor. “I wish to unsee it,” he mutters. “Knowing...is a curse…”

Anthony’s reflexes are quick as Hamilton suddenly loses balance, dangerously staggering to the side as if he is  _ drunk-out-of-his-mind _ all of the sudden. “Woah, easy there, Alex. I’ve got you, bro,” Anthony says gently as Hamilton falls into his hold and stares, wide-eyed, at the floor — at the ticket.

“Take it away…” Hamilton mutters. “I wish to unsee it…”

“Hey, woah—” Jon stands up, walking around Lin. “Is he okay? He looks like he’s gonna pass out.”

“I could use some fuckin’ help, maybe!?” Anthony snaps back as Hamilton’s legs seem to turn into jello. He sinks deeper into Anthony’s loose hold and the poor guy looks like he’s going to fall with the dazed-out red-head.

“He’s definitely in shock,” Lin says dumbly as he ushers Anthony and Hamilton towards the couch. “I think everything from the play is finally settling into his brain and he’s…” Lin trails off as they gently sit him down on the couch.

“Alex?” Anthony asks gently as he waves a hand in front of the man’s unfocused eyes. “Are you alright, bro? Can you hear me?”

“My son…” Hamilton mumbles. “I could swear he was only twelve...I had missed it. I had not been there to see them grow…” Hamilton says hollowly, his attention entirely distracted with something Lin, Anthony, and Jon can’t see.

“Didn't you say something about Hamilton not being able to stand at his son’s funeral because he was so devastated?” Jon asks out of the blue.

“Yeah,” Lin replies, his eyes trained on Hamilton.

“The dude’s catatonic,” Anthony concedes with a frown as he gives up attempting to catch Hamilton’s attention. “I think he’s snapped.”

Hamilton blinks vacantly, his features twisted into an uncomfortable display of despair and sorrow. “I had broken her heart too many times… I had failed them all.”

“Hey, listen to me, Hamilton,” Lin says as he gently holds onto his shoulders. “You did not fail them, you hear me? Your son is still twelve in seventeen-ninety-four. You still have time to fix this.”

Hamilton does not respond. Anthony cautiously stands up from his crouched position and buries his hands in his dark curls. “This is fucking real. He’s really Alexander Hamilton.”

Jon frowns, squinting at Anthony. “ _ Yeah...?  _ Have you not been paying attention?”

“It _ just  _ settled in my fuckin’ brain, okay? Give me a minute to process this shit, bro!” Anthony bites back with a scowl.

Hamilton looks up at Anthony, his eyes filling with fresh tears. “I am so sorry to have failed you, my dear boy.”

Anthony frowns at Hamilton. “You didn’t fail me…?”

Hamilton stands up abruptly, causing the three other men to stumble backwards. He reaches for Anthony, grabbing his wrist with great care. “Laurens, I  _ have _ failed you!”

“Oh fuck, now he’s seeing shit!” Anthony yelps as he yanks his arm from Hamilton's grasp. The blue-eyed man looks broken at his harsh reaction. “I’m not John Laurens! I’m Anthony — Anthony Ramos!”

Hamilton frowns in confusion, tilting his head. He opens his mouth as if to respond but then shuts it with a  _ click _ of his teeth clattering together. Anthony sighs and gently pats Hamilton’s shoulder. “Breathe, man. Just breathe. It’s gonna be okay — you’re gonna be okay.”

Hamilton does as he is told, breathing deeply. He slowly shuffles closer to Anthony until dropping his head on his shoulder and sobbing, lifting his arms to grip the lapels on Anthony’s costume. Anthony wordlessly lifts his arms and pulls Hamilton into a friendly embrace, awkwardly attempting to console him as the man openly sobs on his shoulder. Anthony stares wide-eyed at Lin over Hamilton’s shoulder, his lips pulled into a crooked display of an ineptly bewildered expression.

Lin uncomfortably rubs his mouth and chin, crossing his other arm over his chest since he doesn’t know what to do with himself. They wait patiently until Hamilton calms down and pulls away, wiping his tears from his freckled cheeks.

“Are you alright?” Anthony asks in a soft voice, lifting an inquiring brow.

Hamilton doesn’t reply, and Jon immediately helps him sit on the couch again the moment he begins to sway unsteadily on his feet. Jon sits beside him, keeping a hand on Hamilton's shoulder as he looks up at Lin and Anthony. “What do we do? I don’t think he’s gonna be very responsive for a while.”

“Maybe we can get him a heavy blanket?” Anthony suggests with a shrug of his shoulders. “I heard somewhere that heavy blankets can help with panic attacks and shock, or whatever.”

“That’s a good idea,” Lin replies through his hand, causing his words to be muffled. He pulls his hand away and folds it over the other arm across his chest, his eyes glued to Hamilton. “Go find as many blankets as you can get your hands on.” Anthony nods and turns to leave, but Lin sharply grabs his forearm, stopping him. He jerks his head to stare deeply into Anthony’s eyes. “Do not tell  _ anyone _ about Hamilton.”

“Why?” Anthony replies in a low whisper, turning his body to face Lin.

Lin releases him and instantly refolds his arms across his chest. “I dare you to tell someone — with a straight face — that Alexander Hamilton is in my dressing room experiencing catatonic shock after watching the play. I bet you a million bucks that nobody will believe you and think you're joking. If you keep persisting, I bet a million more that they’ll have you eventually institutionalized.”

Anthony makes a strange grunting sound, then puffs out dramatically through his nose in clear frustration. “What the fuck do I say, then?”

“Just say Jon is cold or something.” Lin pinches his nose, scrunching his eyes closed. “Just get the damn blanket and  _ don’t _ mention Hamilton.”

“Fine,” Anthony hisses in retaliation before briskly turning and marching out of the dressing room.

“I don’t see why we can’t tell the others,” Jon says after Anthony leaves. “Ant and I believed he was Hamilton without much convincing. I mean — look at him. You can’t fake this.”

“If too many people know it’ll be a shit-show,” Lin mutters. “I don’t know what I’m doing and I’ve been stuck with this guy trying to figure out how to send him back for two days now.”

“Well, you could’ve told me. I would’ve believed you,” Jon replies earnestly. “You can’t just handle something like this by yourself, Lin.”

“I don’t know — I wasn’t sure how dangerous it would be to get anyone else involved. I mean, we haven’t considered it yet, but what if he wasn't brought here by accident. What if someone really  _ did _ build a time machine and Hamilton appeared in front of me by mistake and now they're gonna hunt me down?” Lin shivers. “What if I’m gonna be brought to Area fifty-one with Alexander Hamilton?”

“Okay, that’s really stupid, even for you,” Jon says, deadpanned. “You’re not gonna be brought to Area fifty-one. We will figure this out. You, me, and—” Anthony cuts him off by bursting through the door with a pile of blankets. He and Jon begin bundling Hamilton in the blankets and Lin cannot help but smile fondly at the scene.

“How’re you holdin’ up?” Anthony asks Hamilton after he is perfectly bundled like a burrito.

Hamilton blinks and looks over at Anthony with a smile. “Thank you.”

“That doesn’t really answer my question, but hey — at least you’re responding,” Anthony replies with a bright grin.

“I wish you could have met my son,” Hamilton murmurs. “You would have loved him.”

Anthony nods patiently, glancing at Lin before looking back at Hamilton. “Yeah? He seemed like a pretty cool kid.”

“I am sorry about your daughter. I should have aided her after your wife passed,” Hamilton whispers, grabbing Anthony’s hand in a tight grip. “She was all the way in England, you see — but I should have done more. I believe she is with your aunt, but I should have checked to be certain that she is well.”

“He thinks you’re John Laurens,” Jon whispers somberly. 

Anthony sighs. “Alex?”

Hamilton smiles. “Jack, how I have missed you so. You have not called me Alex in a long time, my dear.”

“Hamilton,” Anthony maintains, his features firm. “I’m not John Laurens. I’m Anthony.” He gestures between himself and Lin. “I’m Lin’s friend, remember?”

Hamilton frowns and turns towards Lin. He seems to snap out of whatever haze he is in the moment he stands up and charges after Lin. “You!” He hisses before lifting a fist and punching Lin in the jaw.

“What the fuck!” Lin yelps in pain. He bends in half as Anthony and Jon restrain Hamilton.

“You are responsible for this, you bastard!” Hamilton shouts. He looks completely  _ crazed-out-of his-mind _ as he struggles within their hold.

Lin feels his gut twist uncomfortably. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Hamilton. I truly didn’t want you to see the play!”

“You still fucking wrote it!” Hamilton bites back. Lin determines that this man is absolutely terrifying when he is royally pissed off. “You deceived me!”

Lin stands up tall and frowns at Hamilton. “Yeah, I wrote it. I didn’t want you to see it but you saw it. How have I deceived you, exactly?”

Hamilton freezes in their arms, his eyes are wide open and his mouth agape. Anthony frowns at Lin. “Dude, chill out. He’s clearly upset.”

“No, no — I’m totally chill,” Lin grumbles, sounding shockingly calm. He points an accusatory finger at Hamilton. “He’s the one who’s lost his damn mind. I’ve done nothing but help you and I didn’t tell you about the play because I was worried that if you saw it, you would react like — well, like this!” Lin gestures vaguely. “I truly am sorry that you found out about your son like this, but I will  _ not _ apologize for spending seven years of my life writing this musical.”

Hamilton pulls himself free from their grasp and marches towards the door. Lin turns in his direction, befuddled. “Where are you going!?”

“Away from you!” Hamilton replies furiously. 

“Hey, does anyone wanna get some—” Hamilton nearly crashes into Daveed as he cuts around the corner. “Woah, Alex! Sorry!”

“Good day, sir!” Hamilton yells at Lin before storming towards the fire exit.

“What the fuck just happened?” Daveed asks with furrowed brows.

“I messed up — I can’t just let him—” Lin doesn’t finish his sentence as he hurries past Daveed. Jon follows behind.

“Uh, Lin and Alex had a fight,” Anthony mumbles sheepishly after he and Daveed are left alone in Lin and Jon’s dressing room.

Meanwhile, Lin bursts through the stage doors and finds Hamilton already briskly walking in the wrong direction from the subway station. He hurries after him, ignoring the few pedestrians calling out his name. “Alex! Please, just wait! I’m sorry!”

“Leave me be!” Hamilton replies harshly without looking over his shoulder.

Jon manages to get in front of Hamilton and stops him. “Please, Alexander. We don’t want you to get lost out here. We can figure this out.”

“I cannot be near Lin at the moment,” Hamilton replies, glaring at Lin over his shoulder.

“Then come with me to my place,” Jon suggests, opening himself to face both Hamilton and Lin. “But you have to come back inside since I’m not entirely out of costume yet,” Jon mutters, gesturing to himself sheepishly.

Hamilton considers him for a moment before nodding. “Fine,” he replies before turning on his heel to re-enter the theatre.

“ _ Your _ place?” Lin gawks with outstretched arms.

“Well, it’s better than letting him wander off to god knows where,” Jon replies with a shrug. “I told you — I’ve got your back, Lin. We’ll figure this out together.” Jon places a comforting hand on Lin’s shoulder and he instantly relaxes under his friend’s hold.

* * *

“Please take care of him,” Lin says as he, Anthony, Hamilton, and Jon exit the theatre after everyone has left.

“I am not a child,” Hamilton grumbles. “I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“Yeah, says the guy who didn’t realize all he had to do to get the tablet working was to just _ plug it into the wall socket,” _ Lin replies with a raised brow.

Hamilton blushes —  _ actually blushes  _ — and looks at the road with a pout. Anthony lightly shoves Lin. “Yo, I think you hurt his feelings, bro.”

Lin sighs and rubs his face. “Sorry. I’m just worried. I mean, you came all the way here — why  _ did _ you come, anyway?”

Hamilton keeps his eyes on the road. “The tablet was not functioning. I did not know how to fix it.”

“I showed you how to plug it in—” Lin stops talking when Jon lightly shakes his head behind Hamilton. “I’m sorry. I know it’s all probably confusing for you. Next time just try not to leave unless you _ really _ have to, okay?”

Hamilton attempts to smile but it falters into a strange crooked grin that looks entirely forced. “Alright. Well, good night.”

“Night!” Anthony replies with an easy grin before walking away. “I’ll try to get some sleep but who knows what will happen after a night like that!” Anthony adds as he paces backwards, facing them.

“Good night, guys,” Lin says somberly before tucking his hands in his pockets and turning towards the subway station. “Thanks again, Jon, for helping.”

“Hey, it’s no problem. Get some sleep tonight, please! Let me worry about the time-travelling founding father, yeah?” Jon says with a chuckle.

Lin smiles before turning away. He tries to not look back but cannot resist turning just in time to see Jon and Hamilton walk around the corner across the street. Jon must have said something funny because Hamilton is laughing. Lin turns around and picks up his pace, walking briskly and ignoring the subway station as he passes by, opting to just walk home tonight. He needs time to think and walking helps him focus.

What happened tonight was an absolute disaster.  _ Hamilton winning tickets to see the show was a strange coincidence, right?  _ He’ll have to double-check and see who was running the  _ Ham4Ham _ show today. _ How did Hamilton even enter? He had to submit a 10 dollar bill to enter. That’s how it works. Did they assume he paid already? If he did pay, where did he get the money from? _

Lin wonders if he should check his wallet but decides against it; he decides to pull out his headphones instead and plugs them into his phone. He turns on a random playlist, not caring which one — he just needs music to help him focus. Hamilton had not reacted very well to the play, but they managed to snap him out of whatever daze he was in after piling some blankets on him. He was quiet when they were changing out of their costumes — sitting with Anthony and somberly staring at the floor.

Lin wonders if Hamilton lied about why he came in the first place. The guy would have just sat down and written for the few hours Lin was gone until he can fix the tablet. He’s certain Hamilton would have only left if there was an emergency.  _ So what was it that made him go to the theatre? _

He resists the urge to call Jon and check up on Hamilton.  _ They will be fine. _ Jon is responsible when he has to be and Hamilton is a grown man. As incompetent as he is with technology, he somehow managed to get himself tickets to see the show —  _ which is terrifyingly impressive? _ Nobody seemed to suspect a thing — except for Anthony and Jon who just happened to be there when Hamilton had a mental breakdown over the musical. Those two were very quick to believe it was real — maybe Lin was being dramatic.  _ Maybe it’s not that hard to convince people that you stumbled across a time traveller? _ But as Jon said,  _ ‘you can’t fake that kind of shock.’ _ Even brilliant actors can’t be  _ that _ convincing. Hamilton wasn’t entirely there; he was lost in his crowded mind.

Lin groans. He should have handled that situation better. Instead, he pissed off the poor guy to the point of almost leaving. A part of him wonders if he should have just let Hamilton go — then he would no longer be Lin’s concern. Lin looks down at his phone and opens Jon’s contact, frowning. He can’t abandon Hamilton. He promised he would help him and Lin-Manuel Miranda does not break promises. He should properly apologize for everything; for dramatizing the man’s life for people’s entertainment and for expecting Hamilton to understand technology.

Lin puts his phone away and walks the rest of the way home without looking at it again. When he enters his apartment, he nearly drops his phone in shock. The ibuprofen is on the floor with the cap still sealed and the bar stools are skewed — almost knocked over. The tablet seems to have been haphazardly tossed on the couch — the only normal thing about the scene is the mess of notes on the coffee table.

Something about the scene feels... _ off. _ The note for the keys is laying on the floor as if Hamilton had ripped off the post-it and bolted. Lin frowns as he bends over and picks up the sealed pill bottle. He stares at the child-proof lock for a long time. He notices in his peripheral that the bathroom light was left on. He cautiously places the bottle on the counter and enters the bathroom. He stares at the white towel with a prominent bloodstain on it hanging from the edge of the counter. This is when Lin finally notices the small droplet trail of blood coming from the main room.

Lin pulls up his phone and opens Jon’s contact, hitting the call button before gently holding it to his ear and waiting for him to answer; silently staring at the strange scene before him with pinched lips.

After a few anxious rings, Jon finally answers. “Lin? What’s up? We just got in like two minutes ago and you’re already calling like a concerned mom.” Jon’s tone is light and filled with good humour.

Lin’s shocked expression doesn’t falter. “Can you put Hamilton on the phone? I have to ask him something.”

“Uh, yeah — hold on—” Jon’s end of the line goes muffled and Lin stands, unmoving as he awaits the response.

“—do I hold it like — Hello?” Comes Hamilton’s confused voice.

“Hey, buddy. It’s Lin. Just wanted to ask about the bloody towel in my bathroom and the apartment looking like a disaster…” Lin replies in a surprisingly calm tone.

Hamilton is silent for a long time. Lin sighs. “You still there? Hamilton? All you have to do is speak and I can hear you. Remember, that’s how phones work.”

He hears Hamilton shuffling the phone again before finally replying. “Yes, I am terribly sorry about the mess. I seemed to have, uh, injured myself whilst researching. I had initially intended to clean up after myself but once the tablet failed to function, I had left in a hurry.”

“Uh-huh...” Lin drags the word. “I don’t mind the mess. Are you okay now?”

“Yes. Perfectly splendid!” Hamilton replies. His tone sounds... _strange._ _Could just be the distortion of the speaker? It kinda sounds like sarcasm._

“Okay. Well, if you need anyth—” Lin is abruptly cut off when the phone goes dead. He pulls it away from his ear wordlessly, staring at it with a raised brow.

After staring at his phone for possibly two or three minutes, he receives a text from Jon.

> **_Groffsauce: sry, he hung up on accident lol_ **
> 
> **_Linnamon Roll: it’s ok. please make sure he’s alright. I found a bloody towel in my bathroom and i’m kinda concerned._ **
> 
> **_Groffsauce: shit, yea. i'll ask him about it._ **

Lin absently chews on the dead skin from his bottom lip as he types his response.

> **_Linnamon Roll: thx again for helping. it really means a lot to know i’m not alone in this anymore…_ **

Lin peels the dead skin off with his teeth and spits it out in the sink, immediately running his tongue over the now freshly bleeding wound on his lip. He watches the three dots bounce for a few seconds before another text appears.

> **_Groffsauce: you don't even have to thank me. thats what friends are for doofus. ttyl_ **
> 
> **_Groffsauce: ily <33_ **
> 
> **_Linnamon Roll: love u too :)_ **

Lin’s lips twitch before he slips his phone into his pocket and exhales slowly. He begins cleaning up the mess in his bathroom.  _ This is gonna be a long night. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a weird week. I absolutely hated everything I wrote and wanted to delete this chapter so many times. I didn't know how to realistically make Lin act like a bit of an asshole without making him OOC or just utterly unlikeable. He's upset he got a bad review on his show and he feels trapped in a situation he tried so hard to avoid, but buddy, it was unfortunately inevitable. Hamilton was gonna find out somehow and it was just really unfortunate it was through your play. :(
> 
> Anthony is just _~confused~_ while Jon is already dead-set on helping out because he is an A+ friend who isn't just there for comic relief. Meanwhile, Lin and Hamilton are kinda in a weird place. Those sweet few days were not gonna last. Hamilton has weird trust issues - we been knew. Their budding friendship wasn't gonna just _work out_ that easily, right? Real trust and friendship, that takes ~time.~
> 
> Also, gonna address the elephant in the room. I noticed a few of my readers are shipping Lin and Hamilton or something? Totally chill, you do you, but I am saying this now - I plan on making their relationship entirely platonic. I am ace and have no idea that I am apparently really good at accidental homoerotic subtext. I swear it was an accident. Lin's eyes are just very dark and very trusting. (Anything hinting at Laurens is very intentional, though. Look at the tags.) This has been a PSA.
> 
> See y'all in a million years with the update. (Maybe I might get a time machine and post sooner though, who knows?) Thanks again! (Sorry that it's very brief. I needed a break from long chapters. They will most likely return.) [[They will most definitely return, who am I kidding. Just...not now. Soon...]]
> 
>  **Additional Note!**  
>  Lin's story about faking a spinal injury to get out of camp is _real._ Here is the youtube video where he mentions it in an interview. (The story starts around 3:18 in the video. It's hilarious!): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZRebnF1JaTc&ab_channel=JimmyKimmelLive


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I know I have apologized for being a bit late on updates before but this one took ridiculously long - to anyone still reading, bless your souls! I'm so sorry this took a while to update, I really didn't mean to take this long. These past two weeks have been not only chaotic in my regular life, but in the world as well. (Biden won the American elections right after Destiel became canon and the New York Post faked a story about Putin resigning. Crazy stuff. Also, fun fact, Hamilton founded the New York Post, but anyone who saw the musical knows that, lol.)
> 
> I could give any excuse as to why I’m late with this update, but really, it is Ben Tallmadge's fault… 😉😏 (Just started watching TURN and it has consumed my life. Whoops.)
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy the chapter! The story starts getting kinda weird at this point, but y'all signed up for a wacky time-travelling adventure so what else would you expect from me, honestly? I hope you like weird!

Hamilton's head may explode at any moment if this man does not shut his mouth. His lips tug into a deep scowl as he stands at Washington's right side, clenching his jaw shut to avoid any outbursts that will surely upset His Excellency.

"Hamilton, we cannot go through with this. It is a mistake," Reed replies to Hamilton’s statement from earlier, his tone bitter and gritty from hours of talking. Hamilton feels his face twist in disgust.

"With all due respect, _sir_ ," Hamilton bites back with malice, his face heating with rage boiling his blood. His tone is sharp enough to cut through the room. Everyone stares at him and Washington sighs, rubbing his eyebrow with a scowl. "Your plan will be the mistake, here."

Hamilton levels with his eyes, refusing to break eye contact. He may be the shortest one in the tent, but his fierce energy is the biggest of them all. The humidity of the early August air does not help with his fury warming his cheeks.

"Let us discuss this later. I need my men level-headed before we resume this conversation," Washington announces with gritted teeth. His voice is always soft, but his tone of voice is always one that brings people to a halt.

Hamilton resists the urge to pat his heated face and nods curtly, looking away from Reed. The other man huff's out angrily through his nose before stomping out of the tent. He walks directly into a man standing outside the tent, nearly causing the duo to topple over. Hamilton resists the urge to laugh by biting his cheek and busying himself with neatly piling correspondence on the table. He refuses to look in Tighlman’s direction, knowing the man’s face alone will have him bursting at the seams.

"My apologies. I did not see you leave, sir," the tall man says with a sheepish look and an _annoyingly charming_ southern drawl. Reed just grumbles something incoherent quite bitterly before stomping off. The stranger quickly stands at attention when Washington clears his throat.

"Ahh, Mr. Laurens. You made it a day earlier than expected," Washington says in a light tone, his face as stoic as ever.

Mr. Laurens approaches Washington and removes his hat before shaking his hand — revealing his powdered hair tied neatly in a queue with a silky black ribbon. "The journey went by much smoother than originally intended, sir."

"That is good to hear. Glad to have you on board. May I introduce you to two of my aides-de-camp? Lieutenant-Colonel’s Tighlman and Hamilton," Washington says with the smallest hint of a smile.

“We are quite grateful to have an extra hand around here, Mr. Laurens,” Tighlman says earnestly as he graciously shakes the stranger’s hand. Hamilton supposes since they will be working closely for the unforeseeable future, he may no longer be a stranger. He still cannot decipher if Mr. Laurens will become a Reed or Tighlman in his life. “That man who nearly trampled you was another aide-de-camp — Reed,” Tighlman adds with a bright grin.

Mr. Laurens’ expression drops into a hilarious display of fear and despair. “I did not intend to have such a poor introduction!”

“Ah, nobody likes Reed — and Reed likes nobody,” Tighlman replies with a friendly pat on Mr. Laurens’ shoulder. Hamilton can see the man’s muscles spasm under the older man’s powerful grip. “Even if you were the most polite gentleman, Reed would still hate you, somehow. I am convinced that man has no soul.”

Washington shakes his head modestly, but Hamilton is sure he catches the briefest hint of a smirk on his face before it vanishes as soon as it has appeared. Mr. Laurens turns in that moment and Hamilton finds his eyes are captured into the brightest crystal-blues he has ever seen. Hamilton stands up as tall as he can, looking up at Laurens with a set jaw. He holds out his hand and shakes it firmly; nodding and smiling cordially. 

"John Laurens," the tall blue-eyed man says as their hands are gripped.

"Alexander Hamilton," he replies in a steady voice.

Hamilton narrows his eyes at him. This is the man whose father is a member of Congress; Henry Laurens. He volunteered to join the army and was immediately offered such a high ranking position without any experience. Hamilton's jaw sets tensely after their hand's release.

"I suppose we ought to get you settled then, Mr. Laurens," Washington says gruffly. "Hamilton, would you mind showing Mr. Laurens to his tent?"

Hamilton frowns but nods curtly. "Yes sir," he mumbles as his response. He has worked himself to the bone for this position and he is already being forced to pamper this southern gentleman instead of receiving the command he desires.

At this moment, Hamilton decides that he _hates_ John Laurens.

* * *

Hamilton awakes with a jolt. He stares at the far wall of the room until he remembers where he is; Jon's guest bedroom. It has happened again — he has experienced another vivid memory as if he were reliving it again. Hamilton lifts his hand and wipes the dampness from his nose and pulls his hand away to examine it. It is too difficult to see in the darkness, so he leans over and twists the tiny knob for the lamp — as Jon had instructed him to do so.

He stares at the blood coating his fingers whilst massaging his temple with his other hand. A part of him screams to tell Jon or Lin — however, he opts to silently remove the duvet and saunter into the bathroom to clean up the mess himself.

He uses the disposable tissues on the counter to wipe his nose and tosses it in the toilet to flush it away. He washes his hands in the sink and then dries them with the towel. He examines himself one last time in the mirror before retreating from the bathroom; no incriminating evidence left behind this time. 

He stops, recalling Jon mentioning something about a light switch on the wall and slaps it blindly from the doorway until the light goes out. Electricity is truly a marvellous invention and he wishes to have it in his own time. 

_"I don't think electricity will be invented until roughly a hundred years after you die. Sorry," Jon had said with a shrug and lopsided frown._

Hamilton returns to the guest room and properly dresses for the day before sitting at the small desk in the corner. Jon was gracious enough to provide him with a notebook and a pen to write in whenever he desires.

_"It's just a silly notebook I bought from the dollar store ages ago. I don't think I ever got a chance to write anything in it yet so you can have it if you want," Jon explained with a smile as he handed Hamilton the object in question. The front appeared to be turquoise with childish white and black kitten doodles upon it._

Hamilton opens the book and un-caps the pen. He begins writing everything — from the events of the morning of || _2 December 1794_ || until tonight, being sure to not leave out a single detail. He does not know the date in the future, so he just labels the first day as || _Day 1 of 2016_ || and henceforth follows this pattern for the following days.

He notices the sky has brightened into late morning in the time it had taken him to recount all of the events of the past few days in this notebook. He considers it for a moment, wondering what he shall do with such evidence. It is in his nature to document everything but it may be a mistake to carry this around. Perhaps he can burn it once he returns home — but for now, he keeps it; tucking the tiny book and pen into his inner coat pocket. 

Hamilton saunters into the kitchen and freezes upon the sight of Jon, already awake and preparing a meal. He looks up from the vegetables he is chopping and proffers a large grin. “Good morning! Did you sleep well?”

Hamilton hums noncommittally as he sits in one of the tall chairs at the counter Jon is preparing breakfast on. Jon returns his attention onto his task but continues speaking. “Well, I hope you’re hungry because I’m making a big breakfast. How do bacon, eggs, and a garden salad sound?”

Hamilton stares at the large assortment of foods and pinches his lips together. “That sounds delectable. Would you require my assistance with anything at all? I could not possibly sit here and watch you cook.”

“Well, can you chop these peppers for me?” Jon asks, holding up the knife with a tilted head.

Hamilton nods and removes his coat, hanging it on the tall chair before walking around to Jon’s side of the counter. He rolls his sleeves up to his elbows and reaches for the knife but Jon pulls it closer to himself.

“Ah, wash your hands first!” Jon says quickly, placing the knife on the counter and pointing in the direction of the sink.

Hamilton does as he is instructed and then returns to the knife, gently picking it up as Jon walks to the fridge. His kitchen is far smaller than Lin’s so they have to make do with the cramped space as they work at their respective stations.

Hamilton clumsily cuts the pepper, frowning in frustration as he struggles to cut it as Jon had. "Here, mind if I help?" Jon requests with a polite grin. Hamilton pauses and nods solemnly in response. Jon places a gentle hand over his on the knife and begins moving his fingers around. Hamilton finds himself blushing at the strangely intimate action. _People are quite forward in the future, it may seem._

“Hold it like this and don’t lift the knife off of the cutting board,” Jon instructs as he demonstrates the motion with Hamilton’s hand. “And when you’re holding anything you're cutting, claw your fingers in so you don’t accidentally cut off your fingers. Like this,” Jon adds patiently as he repositions Hamilton’s hand on the pepper. “Okay, now try cutting it.”

Jon steps back, no longer invading Hamilton’s space, and he nervously cuts the pepper with the new positioning. He smiles proudly when he slices it exactly as Jon had before. He looks over his shoulder with a bright grin, unable to mask his pride. “I’ve done it!”

“Yes, you did! Now keep your eyes on your work,” Jon says with a chuckle before turning around to light the flame on the stove by twisting a knob. _Incredible._

Hamilton proudly slices the rest of the pepper with ease and continues following Jon’s advice as he cuts the other vegetables. He wonders if he could impress Maggie or Eliza with this new skill he has acquired. He stops chopping and frowns at the thought. _Eliza._ He misses her dearly — he misses his children. Hamilton places the knife down when he notices his hand be trembling.

“Are you alright?” Jon inquires worriedly.

“I am fine. Just a tad drained.” Hamilton yawns. “Perhaps all I require is some proper rest. I’m afraid I did not sleep rather well.”

Jon frowns with furrowed brows but nods. “Yeah, you can sit on the couch over there. I’ve got this handled. Thanks for your assistance.”

Hamilton forces a placid smile before turning around and feeling it wipe away instantly.

* * *

After eating the large — _and delicious_ — breakfast, Jon asks Hamilton if he would like to join him for a stroll through _'Central Park'_ before he has to go to work for the day. Hamilton agrees — on the condition that he does not require changing his clothes into a _ridiculously_ unnecessary disguise. 

They remain within amicable silence as they walk from Jon's apartment to the park. Hamilton keeps his hands clasped behind his back and wanders his gaze at everything around him. He examines the towering glass buildings and the large crowds of people flooding the streets of New York.

He smells a varying assortment of scents, from multiple foods to putrid odours that cause his nose to wrinkle uncomfortably. A group of four children pass himself and Jon, giggling over each other's shoulders and staring at one of their cell phones.

"Tis a beautiful day," Hamilton murmurs whilst craning his neck to look up at the clear blue summer skies. They venture further into the park and Hamilton feels more at ease as he distances himself from the distractingly loud futuristic city.

Jon hums in agreement. "I figured you would like Central Park. There's more nature and less…" Jon's words dissolve as he ponders with furrowed brows. "Less _future?"_

Hamilton chuckles. "Yes, very true. I thank you for inviting me on this stroll."

Jon nods slowly. They do not speak again until Jon breaks the comfortable silence. "I know we didn't get much of a chance to discuss this last night, but I think you should know — Lin means well. He cares deeply about the play and also feels guilty that you watched it."

Hamilton's lips twist into a crooked display. "I see." He suddenly releases the tension he has noticed in his shoulders.

"Do you wanna come and see us rehearse, today?" Jon asks so abruptly that Hamilton stops walking to stare at him.

"I beg your pardon?"

Jon halts his stride and turns to face Hamilton, casually slipping his hands in his pockets as he shrugs. "Why don't you come with me to work today and watch us rehearse? Maybe get a new perspective on the show."

"I do not think you understand, sir," Hamilton grumbles as he folds his arms over his chest. "Tis not but a _'play'_ for me. It is my life."

"I'm aware of that," Jon replies quickly; defensive. "I'm just asking you to look at it objectively. Watch us rehearse without the costumes and the lights. Actually _listen_ to the lyrics of the songs."

"I did listen," Hamilton growls furiously. "I heard the words loud and clear. Lin has made his opinion of me quite transparent."

Jon sighs in a disgruntled manner. "You have every right to be pissed but please — I'm not asking you to forgive Lin — I'm asking you to see this with a new perspective. At least so you can understand where Lin is coming from."

Hamilton rolls his eyes and shoves his hands in his pockets. He regrets wearing his overcoat on this stroll — he has travelled into the _summer_ of twenty-sixteen and not the _winter_. Sometimes he forgets that he is no longer at home. Either his mind is scrambling or he is helplessly hopeful. 

"Fine. I will come."

Jon smiles at Hamilton's proclamation and nods his head towards the adjacent path. "Come. We still have time to kill and it's a beautiful day."

Hamilton sighs before following Jon down the new path. He wishes he could truly _kill_ time for all the pain it has caused him.

* * *

They enter the theatre through the side doors without a hitch. Jon leads Hamilton to the audience of the theatre; nobody pays them any mind. "Sit here and just watch quietly. I'll come get you then we're done."

Hamilton nods and sits. Jon walks away and it has become abundantly clear that Hamilton is sitting in the far back corner of the lower level — well-hidden from everyone. He suspects Lin does not know Jon has brought him here today. 

A few people venture onto the stage and Jon joins them, sitting on the edge and conversing with Pippa. The multiple conversations occurring at once are muffled, but Hamilton pays none of them any mind. He glares at Lin as he strides across the stage, directly towards Jon.

"Hey! How was your night?" Lin asks loudly, or rather, his words seem louder to Hamilton since this particular conversation is Hamilton's priority at the moment.

"It was fine," Jon replies with ease.

"Good to hear," Lin says slowly. "And—"

"Everything is fine. You can relax. We had a good night. Nothing to worry about," Jon says smoothly.

Pippa raises a brow. " _We_?" She frowns. "Was there a secret date I didn't hear about?"

Jon snorts. "I have a boyfriend in LA, you know. I'm not going on any secret dates." _Boy...friend?_

"I know that," Pippa replies softly. "It just sounds like a secret with the way you two are talking to each other."

"That's cause Alex stayed with Jon last night," Anthony replies as he flops on the edge of the stage between Jon and Pippa. 

Lin and Jon stare at him with wide, angry eyes. Anthony waves them off. "They fought, Jon offered Alex his spare room while they worked it out. Totally normal. No need to feel embarrassed by it, Lin."

"Oh, so that's why you're being secretive?" Pippa inquires sadly. "What did you fight about."

"The past," Anthony replies. Hamilton wonders if he should fear Anthony’s skills at hiding the truth. _These people are all players working in theatre, after all. They have mastered the skill of deception._

"Thanks for sharing my problems with the class, Ant," Lin grumbles tiredly. 

"I'm sorry to hear that," Pippa consoles. "I hope you work it out."

"Yeah, me too," Lin replies whilst rubbing his face exhaustedly. Jon glances in Hamilton's direction and frowns. Hamilton returns the expression before Jon looks away.

“Hey everyone, thanks for coming in today. I was hoping we can get some practice on Yorktown since that’s what we’ll be performing at the Tony’s next Sunday,” a man with curly hair announces as he enters the stage with a pile of paper hastily tucked under his arm. Hamilton recognizes him as the composer who had peeked his head out of the orchestra pit after last evening’s show during their curtain call.

“I still don’t know the words for the opening number yet,” Anthony wines whilst pulling out his cell phone. “Would anyone mind running that with me today?”

“Yeah, sure,” Leslie replies with a bright grin. He hops off of the stage and sits in one of the front row seats. “I only ask we go over the actual Alexander Hamilton number afterwards so I don’t fuck up tonight.”

This statement is received with laughter from a few people and Hamilton furrows his brows in confusion. _‘Tony’s? What is all of this about?’_ Lin seems tenser from the mention of this _‘Tony’_ person and it only leaves more questions than answers within Hamilton’s mind.

Hamilton tries to do what Jon asked of him; he listens to the lyrics as they rehearse the songs. They start with the song about the battle of Yorktown. _The World Turned Upside Down_ is one of the drinking songs that was sung that day, but it sounds vastly different than what they are singing here. _Another anomaly in terms of historical accuracy._ Hamilton rolls his eyes but continues to listen, a dull headache beginning to bloom.

The next song they practice is the one about the Schuyler sisters. Hamilton finds his foot tapping along with the melody and he cannot resist smiling as he hears this song. 

“Imma compel him to include women in the sequel — work!” Rene sings with the right amount of wit that Angelica upholds in his real life and it suddenly hits him. He is starting to understand why Jon brought him along today.

Lin sees the women of this story as equal companions. In fact, he is starting to understand that this story is not about himself at all, really. It is about the people in his life and how he has affected them. Hamilton leans back in his seat as this epiphany strikes him. They begin rehearsing the final song of the show and he listens to everything Eliza has done with careful ears. She had told their story — Washington’s, the soldiers, and his own. She opened an orphanage and raised hundreds of children like himself. Hamilton feels his eyes watering but refuses to cry. He wipes his eyes and sniffles once to compose himself. The anger inside of him has switched its target and everything has become abundantly clear to him now.

Hamilton barely registers that their rehearsal has ended and stands up when he notices Jon approaching him with a worried expression. “Are you alright?” Jon asks with great care.

“Yes,” Hamilton replies with a nod. “I believe I am well. Thank you for inviting me here, today.”

Jon smiles and puts his hands in his pockets. “Well, I guess we should let Lin know that I snuck you in here today.”

Hamilton nods before following Jon through the theatre aisles. He looks up at the stage and watches Anthony go from relaxed to outright panicked before he grabs Lin’s arm, staring directly at him as he approaches the stage with Jon. Lin turns around and his face pales at the sight of Hamilton. 

“I hope you don’t mind, but I invited Alex to come by today,” Jon says casually as he climbs the stage. He leans over and offers a hand to Hamilton, but he refuses, opting to climb the stage on his own.

“You brought — Alex you’re here?” Lin scrambles through his words abashedly.

“Jon invited me to watch your rehearsal,” Hamilton replies smoothly. 

Lin turns to Jon sharply, his eyes narrowing with fury. “You — _what?”_

Jon is quickly defensive. “I just wanted him to—”

“Not here,” Anthony quickly cuts Jon off with a harsh whisper. Hamilton notices the few people staring at them with raised brows — mainly Daveed, Leslie and Pippa. Lin nods his head sharply over his shoulder before turning around and marching briskly into the wings. Jon, Anthony, and Hamilton follow him wordlessly.

They enter Lin’s dressing room and he closes the door behind them. “Jon, what the fuck were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that Hamilton needed to hear the songs with a new perspective so he would stop being angry with you.” Jon looks over at Hamilton. “Well, what did you think?”

Hamilton clasps his hands behind his back and stares stoically at Lin; his headache is still festering in the back of his head but he ignores it. “Perhaps I may have been quick to judgement, Lin.”

Lin deflates, his expression now unreadable but considerably calmer than before. Anthony lifts a curious brow before he speaks. “So you’re not angry?”

“Oh, I am absolutely livid,” Hamilton replies cordially. “I have discovered I have been deflecting my anger upon the wrong individual,” Hamilton continues as he flickers his gaze to the floor.

“I — what?” Lin says with a vacant look.

“The play was never about me,” Hamilton elaborates with a gentle wave of his hand. He places it on his chest. “The people in this story — Washington, Laurens, Burr, Eliza, Angelica, Maria, Lafayette, Philip — they have all been negatively affected by me in some way and now I can see it. This is why I was brought here.” Hamilton removes his hand from his head once he notices he has been absently massaging it. “I have ruined their lives and I was angry with you, Lin, because I did not wish to believe such a thing. I was foolish to ever believe I did right by these people and America. I was brought here because I must face the consequences of all of the sins I have committed.”

The three men in the room stare at Hamilton, utterly speechless. Anthony is the first to speak. “How the fuck can you say so much and also make so little sense all at the same time?” Hamilton lifts a curious brow at Anthony. “I mean, yeah, you’ve done wrong, but all of us have. I don’t care who you are — nobody deserves to be in your position, bro.”

“But I do deserve it—”

“Please shut up,” Lin interrupts with a wave of his hand. “For once in your life, please stop talking.” Hamilton shuts his mouth in befuddlement. “I wrote the play because I read your biography and thought _‘hey, this is a hip-hop story!’_ I never intended for you to see this and take from it that you somehow deserve this terrible fate.” Hamilton blinks, unable to respond. Lin continues, now pointing at Jon fiercely. “You shouldn’t have brought him. He’s clearly traumatized and bringing him today only made things worse.”

“I’m sorry, I was trying to help!” Jon replies earnestly, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “Really, I genuinely thought bringing him would help.”

“You wanted him to not be mad at me anymore, and honestly, I think I prefer that over whatever the fuck he said to us just now,” Lin replies tiredly. Hamilton rubs his temple distractedly but says nothing on the pain in his skull increasing rapidly.

“I agree. Depressed Hamilton is not as fun as Angry Hamilton,” Anthony adds with a shrug. Everyone shoots the same deathly glare at Anthony and he lifts his hands in defence. “I’m just trying to lighten the mood — shit I’m sorry.”

They all startle at the sobering sound of soft knocking on the door. “Hey, everything alright in here? Can I come in?” Daveed’s voice sounds gentle and muffled from the opposite side of the door.

Hamilton’s eyes widen and he folds his arms over his chest, Lin rubs his face with both hands, and Jon sits on the sofa indifferently. Anthony is the one to roll his eyes and open the door. “We’re fine. Just forcing Lin and Ha—Alex to get their shit together.”

“Halex, huh?” Daveed’s questioning tone is laced with sarcasm as he arches an eyebrow. He looks at Hamilton and pushes the door open further. “You’re wearing the same thing you were wearing yesterday and I know that’s not one of our costumes.”

Hamilton looks at Lin for silent assistance and the dark-haired man seems to crack. “It’s cause it isn’t a fucking costume.”

Daveed closes the door behind him, staring boldly at Hamilton. “Please tell me I’m not assuming something utterly bat-shit insane right now.”

“You’re not,” Anthony replies quietly. Daveed snaps his gaze at Anthony and his features twist into something desperate; a silent plea. Anthony sighs and crosses his arms with a half-hearted shrug.

Daveed returns his gaze at Hamilton and examines him carefully. Hamilton groans in frustration and pinches the bridge of his nose. “This is ridiculous.” He removes his hand and approaches Daveed, outstretching it for a handshake. “Alexander Hamilton, it is a pleasure to _properly_ make your acquaintance, sir.”

Daveed just stares at his hand but does not move a muscle. “No,” Daveed states with a scowl. “This isn’t funny.”

“This is no jest, sir,” Hamilton says, rubbing his head against his will.

“You alright, bro?” Anthony asks carefully, stepping closer to Hamilton. “This is the third time I’ve seen you rubbing at your head.”

“I am well — perhaps I am stressed,” Hamilton grumbles. “There is nothing to be concerned about.”

“You’ve had way too many headaches in the past few days for it to be no concern,” Lin replies with a grimace. “What is happening to you, Hamilton?”

“Nothing,” Hamilton snaps, suddenly charged with energy. “I said I am well.”

“What about the blood I found in my apartment?” Lin counters with crossed arms.

“What the fuck is going on?” Daveed asks dumbfoundedly. He looks at everyone in the room with wide eyes.

“Congrats, welcome to our living hell,” Jon mumbles tiredly from the sofa.

Lin directs his attention to Jon. “I told you I didn’t want to burden any of you with this shit!” Lin says sharply.

“I told you I didn’t mind helping you,” Jon retaliates. “I was only half-joking.” Lin makes a loud and sarcastic _‘HA’_ sound that causes a sharpness to jolt through Hamilton’s skull.

“Please, stop talking,” Hamilton snaps; everyone falls silent at his harsh outburst. He groans as his entire head throbs sharply. He bends over, clawing at his buzzing head.

“What’s wrong with him?” Daveed asks nervously. “Guys, what the fuck—”

“Shut up!” Hamilton mercilessly shouts. His ears are humming and he begins trembling from the pain. He dreads that he be nearly falling unconscious from the excruciating pain.

“What the fuck is that humming sound?” Anthony wonders apprehensively.

Hamilton opens his eyes and everyone practically leaps away from him, their eyes widening with an obvious display of fear. He lowers his trembling hands from his head as the pain seems to dissolve, leaving him trembling with adrenaline.

Then he sees it — subtle white sparks flickering from his fingertips. It is not adrenaline charging through him — it is something else. Something _sinister._

“His eyes are glowing. Why are his eyes glowing!?” Daveed gawks in a panicked tone, his eyes frantically snapping between everyone in the room for a response.

“What is happening to me?” Hamilton whispers, his own horror beginning to settle into his core. He looks into Lin’s eyes for some sort of answer but finds nothing but his own fear and confusion reflecting back.

His fingertips spark again, this time with a vibrant blue tint. Hamilton trembles furiously as the sparking intensifies, shooting from his hands and hitting the ceiling like lightning and crashing into the light source of the room with a loud **_BANG._ ** They all scream as the room is enveloped into darkness, sans the glowing blue sparks surrounding Hamilton.

They hear moans and groans throughout the theatre as they all stare silently at each other in bewilderment.

“Fuck, check the breakers!” A male voice calls from down the hall.

“My sister just said the power went out at the Starbucks on seventh!” A female voice says after a beat.

Hamilton trembles with the energy coursing through his veins and his heart pounds with trepidation. “What am I — how do I — Lin, help me.”

“I—” Lin closes his mouth and swallows. “I don’t know what to do.”

Hamilton feels the charge ready to explode and he squeezes his eyes shut as he feels it escape him. He waves his arms and suddenly the blue lightning shoots from his fingers and tears a visible passageway between them. They all stare at the image in front of them.

A young Hamilton in his early twenties is sitting at a make-shift desk late at night, writing with a lone candle being his only source of light. His hands be stained with ink and he chews on his bottom lip as his focus is entirely captured by whatever it is he is writing.

“Hamilton, you’re still awake?” A voice with a charming southern drawl whispers deeply and Hamilton in the vision startles at the sound. He turns to see John Laurens standing in the doorway— with his hair powdered, his face clean-shaven and youthful, and his new army uniform prim and proper.

“Ah, Laurens. You startled me,” young Hamilton replies with a chuckle.

Hamilton waves his arms again and the vision disappears as soon as it had appeared, leaving them in inky black darkness. He feels absolutely drained and collapses onto his knees. Anthony shines a light from his cell phone onto Hamilton, his hand noticeably trembling by the frantic tell of the light wobbling.

“What the fuck _was_ that?” Anthony whispers with a wavering voice.

The door opens, spilling more dulled light into the room. “Is everyone okay in here?” Pippa’s voice is gentle and soothing to Hamilton’s nerves.

Nobody replies — not even a simple head gesture. Lin clears his throat as Hamilton meekly looks up at him. He can feel the blood sliding from both of his nostrils but he refuses to turn his head to reveal his state to Miss Pippa.

“I think so?” Lin sounds utterly unconvincing. “Just, uh — shocked.”

Pippa hums in acknowledgment. “You guys won’t believe it,” she says, sounding out of breath. “The power just went out everywhere in New York.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo, yeah. Like I said - It's getting weird. It'll only get more insane so strap in, we are free-falling now, fam.
> 
> As a side note, I typically don't like self-promoting my social medias, but you are totally welcome to bug me on Tumblr. I post updates for this fic on there - mostly memes, though (and occasionally art.) Come say hi and yell about Hamilton or somethin'! I am @peblezq on there! (:
> 
> And okay, I have to say it. I didn't have a title for this fic when I started developing it. (I also had no idea how to do the big time travel scene.) When I was sweeping at work one night in September, this song came on my playlist and I was like, "yeah sure, that works." Anyway, here is the song that inspired the title and the time travel scene back in chapter 1 (feel free to make fun of me): https://youtu.be/6zT4Y-QNdto


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A frequent uploading schedule, you say? _I don’t know her._ I was bingeing Turn so perhaps now that I've finished that show I will be more inclined to write since I have nothing else to distract me from 2020...right? Anyone who is still tuning in, I commend you! Thanks for sticking around for my chaos!
> 
> Thank you all for the wonderful feedback and I hope you enjoy this next chapter! We are inching closer to the second half and I've been looking forward to the second half since I started writing, lol! 
> 
> I also made a Discord Server for fans of all things Hamilton, Turn, and the American Revolution/History! Feel free to join if you’re interested! [ Join The Revolutionary Junkies Discord Server](https://discord.gg/FsmC8wzuuJl) (Here is the raw link if the hyperlink is broken: https://discord.gg/FsmC8wzuuJ ) 
> 
> **Possible Trigger Warnings:** police brutality and some anti-immigration is mentioned! (Pay mind to the tags added to this fic as it is beginning to take a thematic turn!)

_ “Do not call nine-one-one unless it is an emergency. Stay away from bridges, tunnels, and subways. Sources say that they are still looking for the source of the blackout — Jerry, it’s exactly like that blackout in oh-three!” _

_ “You’re right, Susan. The same grid was knocked out. Do you think a tree branch in Ohio did this again?” The people in the news broadcast chuckle. _

“Shut that off,” Lin snaps, rubbing his head tiredly. The crew members watching the news on their phone give him a sharp look and hop off of the stage. If Lin was not on edge before, he sure as hell is now.

Anthony glumly reads a tweet aloud on his phone. “This is just as big as the Northeast blackout of two-thousand-and-three.”

“Government officials are urging people to save their phone batteries since they don’t know when the power will return in some places,” Rene says, reading from her own phone before shutting it off. She sits beside Anthony on the stage, folding her legs.

Everyone working in the theatre is gathered in the auditorium, most on the stage, others filling the seats. They lit the room with lanterns, flashlights, and phone lights. Lin glances at Hamilton as he stares silently at the floor with a look of pure exhaustion. 

“Alright, we're calling it — we’re cancelling tonight’s show. We’re sending out a tweet saying we will return a refund to everyone once the power returns,” Alex Lacamoire, the director of the show, announces half-heartedly. Everyone collectively groans.

“What do you think could have caused it?” Leslie asks with a shrug.

Lin, Daveed, Anthony, and Jon all exchange worried glances; Hamilton’s eyes are still locked on the floor tiredly.

“Probably some ridiculous error like what happened last time,” Jasmine replies with a light-hearted chuckle. “Wasn’t that major blackout caused by a tree branch or something?”

“Yeah,” Chris replies. “You’d think they would have procedures to avoid stuff like that from happening again.”

“Ha, you’d think so, huh?” Oak barks out and elbows Daveed with a hoarse chuckle.

Daveed returns a nervous chuckle. “Ye—ah-haha,” Daveed mumbles anxiously. He clearly avoids looking at Hamilton.

“My reception just cut out,” Jasmine grumbles. “I guess the cell phone towers backup generators gave up.

“Or they weren’t out until just now,” Anthony replies, staring idly at his phone which now has a  _ ‘this page cannot load’ _ error message on it.

“I suggest you all return home to your families. If not, you’re all welcome to stay here,” Lacamoire says with folded arms.

“My apartment is close-by if you guys wanna stay with me?” Jon whispers to Lin, Hamilton, Daveed, and Anthony.

“Ant, would you like to come with me to my mom’s?” Jasmine asks sweetly.

He looks helplessly between Jon and Jasmine. “I think I’ll go stay with Jon,” Anthony replies. “You go on ahead to your mom’s.”

“I’ll come with you if it’s alright?” Rene asks Jasmine with a smile. Jasmine nods and they walk out together.

“You four are coming with me, then?” Jon confirms with a tilted head. He does not leave it open like an invitation.

Lin nods. “Yeah, let’s go.” He pats Hamilton’s shoulder and he jerks himself away, blinking rapidly. They all freeze, staring at him with wide eyes but nothing happens. He’s like a ticking time-bomb now that they know what he’s capable of.

“I apologize,” Hamilton mutters. “You startled me.”

“Let’s  _ not _ startle him,” Daveed whispers harshly. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

"Can I come stay with you guys?" Pippa asks before any of them can exit the stage.

Jon looks over at Lin and Hamilton and back at Pippa. "Ahhh, umm—"

"I know something's up," Pippa drops her voice, ducking her head and raising a brow at Jon. "I'm not blind."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Jon replies innocently.

Pippa gazes at Hamilton and he averts his eyes. "Please, let me help."

Jon uncomfortably folds his arms over his chest and shrugs sheepishly at Lin. Daveed shakes his head. Anthony shuts off his phone and tucks it in his pocket, barely paying attention as he watches Jasmine and Rene exit through the auditorium with pursed lips.

"Please, go home miss Pippa," Hamilton says, his voice hoarse.

She stares at him and he visibly shrinks under her sharp gaze. "Let me help," she states firmly.

Lin sighs dejectedly. "We can deal with this ourselves."

"We needn't worry a lady with this," Hamilton adds tiredly.

"Oh, now I'm definitely coming just because you said that," Pippa grumbles with a lifted brow. 

Hamilton furrows his brows at Lin. "Fine," Lin grumbles. "You can come. Just...be quiet about it."

Pippa nods and the group casually leave the theatre along with a few others.

* * *

"So, he's Alexander Hamilton?" Pippa asks for final clarification.

"Yes," the men all chorus in unison.

"And he was the cause of the blackout?" Pippa adds, speaking slowly.

"Yes," the men reply together, their voices harmonizing in a monotone. 

Pippa stares at Lin with sombre sympathy. "Why didn't you tell us sooner, Lin?"

"That's what I said!" Jon declares with a throw of his hands in exasperation. 

"Because one, it's fucking insane and nobody would have believed me," Lin starts. Daveed shrugs and nods in agreement. "And two, I didn't know how dangerous this situation is, so I didn't want to risk anyone else's safety." 

"Well, why put yourself in danger, then?" Daveed asks. "I mean, why do  _ you _ have to deal with this? It's  _ his _ problem, not  _ yours _ — no offence," Daveed turns to Hamilton with a nervous smile. Hamilton waves him off dismissively.

"He literally just...appeared in front of me in a flashing blue light," Lin exasperates with a sigh. "It kinda became my problem without my say-so. And I promised him I would help him," Lin adds earnestly, turning to look at Hamilton, but the man flickers his gaze to the floor. 

"Wait, the blue light — was it like the shit that came out of his hands at the theatre?" Daveed inquires with wide eyes.

Hamilton nods slowly. "Exactly like that, actually." He exchanges a look with Lin. "What do you suppose this means?"

"It means we clearly have no idea what we're in for," Lin replies with a gravelly voice.

"We'll figure it out," Pippa consoles with a gentle smile as she leans in and pats Hamilton's hand. "We'll get you home."

Hamilton's eyes are glossy as he smiles at her. "Thank you." He turns his head to look at the others. "All of you. Thank you for your kindness."

"I kinda regret getting involved," Daveed grumbles. "Life was easier when I was blissfully ignorant." 

"Well too bad. Now you're here and we need to figure out how to send him back," Jon mutters with a shrug.

"That's an impossible task," Daveed whines.

"Actually, it might not be," Anthony chimes in with a bright expression; Lin can tell the metaphorical light-bulb has flashed in Anthony's head. "Yo, so hear me out. Do you guys remember when Hamilton opened that weird-ass portal — after the power went out?" Everyone except Pippa nods. "We saw a young Hamilton and I'm pretty sure he called the other dude  _ Laurens _ . I think our answer to time travel is right here," Anthony explains, gesturing towards Hamilton. 

"It did look like he opened a sort-of time-portal," Jon replies with a snap of his fingers. "Maybe you're right. The answer has been here all along."

Hamilton blinks rapidly. "Are you suggesting that I am capable of sending myself home?" Hamilton questions with a raised brow. "I do not understand what had occurred earlier but I assure you that I had no control over it. And whatever brought me here did not emanate from myself. What you all witnessed at the theatre — that was the first of that strange occurrence."

"And all I'm sayin' is that maybe that ain't gonna be the last time that happens, bro," Anthony replies. "If we can figure out what happened then maybe we can repeat it but, like, with more control over it?"

"Why the hell would we wanna repeat that!?" Daveed yelps in trepidation. "Did you  _ not _ see what happened the last time he did that?" Daveed gesticulates around the dark apartment. "Oh right, you  _ can't _ fucking see because he caused a north-east-wide blackout!"

"He does make a fair point," Pippa says lowly. "Whatever happened shouldn't be repeated if it took out the power in multiple states and even in Canada." 

"How the fuck else are we gonna get him home, then?" Anthony wonders with an annoyed huff. "Anyone got any bright ideas?"

Lin stares at nothing in the middle-distance. His brain feels like scrambled eggs. He hasn't had a moment to process anything that has occurred. He flickers his gaze to his folded hands as his frown deepens. 

He startles when his phone begins to ring.

"You have reception?" Pippa asks curiously as Lin wordlessly pulls his phone from his pocket.

"Vanessa," Lin says after looking at the call info and swiping to answer the call. The line is crunchy and the quality is the shittiest it's ever been. The cell towers must be running on backup generators.

"Lin, oh my gkkkkkkptz. The p— is out every—ello? Lin—you there?" Vanessa's voice cuts in and out and buzzing into strange tones as she speaks. 

"Vanessa? How is Sebastian? Are you safe?" Lin asks, standing up to start pacing.

"Lin? You—utting—ello?" Is the last thing he hears before the call disconnects.

He pulls the phone away from his face and frowns at the lack of bars. "Fuck!" He carelessly tosses his phone on the couch and rubs his face. 

"Perhaps you could write to your wife instead since your future communication devices are no longer operational," Hamilton suggests.

"Yeah, sending mail isn't easy," Jon mutters softly. "The postal system might have changed a bit in the last two centuries. It'll be slowed down without power."

Hamilton hums noncommittally. "Well, we could at the very least light candles," Hamilton replies with a shrug.

Jon nods slowly. "Yeah, alright. I think I have some candles around here somewhere…"

* * *

“Lin...Psst, wake up.”

Lin groans and rolls over on the deflated air mattress, sighing with defeat when he realizes how uncomfortable he is. He blinks his eyes open sleepily and squints at Jon in the candlelight. Spending an entire day and evening discussing the means of time-travel is exhausting and he doesn't even need to know what time it is to know that he hasn’t been asleep long enough. Jon had offered air mattresses and his pull-out couch so nobody had to walk through a dark New York City. Lin is drenched in sweat from the lack of air-conditioning. The only person who didn’t complain about the power outage all day was Hamilton.  _ ‘Fuck him’ _ Lin thinks bitterly to himself as he sits up groggily, wiping the crust from his eyes.

“Jon?” Lin mumbles. “What is it?” Lin’s words slur together as he struggles to completely wake himself up. The heat doesn’t help his exhaustion in the slightest. He wonders if he might be dehydrated.

“At first I thought he was calling for me but then I realized he was still asleep,” Jon whispers frantically, glancing over his shoulder periodically as he speaks.

“What the fuck are you talking about—” Lin is cut off by the sound of Hamilton shouting from the guest room. Lin sits up quickly at the sound of his distress.

“John!” Hamilton shouts. Daveed moans and rolls over on the pull-out couch, covering his head with the pillow — clearly having been woken up by the commotion. Anthony is snoring lightly beside Daveed on the pull-out and Pippa is sound asleep on the air mattress beside Lin; her’s still appears to be inflated.

Lin stands up with the help of Jon and they stumble into the guest bedroom where Hamilton is thrashing about on the bed. He’s coated in sweat and his rolled up sleeves reveal the glowing blue veins from his arms. A bright blue light is emanating from him, drowning out the low candlelight.

Lin and Jon gape at him for a moment before Lin snaps out of it. “Go get a cool damp cloth.” When Jon doesn’t respond, Lin snaps his head in Jon’s direction. “Now!”

Jon hurries out of the room and Lin carefully approaches Hamilton. His hand trembles as he reaches for his head, shushing him as he would to his baby boy. “Hamilton?” Lin whispers softly, petting his hand carefully against Hamilton’s forehead. “Relax. You’re safe. It’s just a dream…”

Hamilton pants and squeezes his eyes, twisting uncomfortably on the mattress. Lin notices the glowing blue veins go up his neck as well and he sharply inhales at the sight. “John…” Hamilton murmurs, nuzzling his head into Lin’s hand. “I can return to my work. Please, I am fine… The fever is gone…”

Lin frowns at Hamilton and lifts a curious brow. Jon returns with the cloth and Lin takes it, dabbing it on Hamilton’s sweaty forehead. Hamilton sighs and visibly relaxes under the cloth. Lin sighs with relief when he notices the blue glowing veins slowly recede and dissipate, leaving them in the low orange-glow of the candle on the nightstand. Hamilton blinks his eyes open and the blue glow in them fades as he gapes at Lin.

“Lin? What are you doing here?” Hamilton murmurs with a gravelly voice.

“You were glowing again and muttering in your sleep about John and a fever?” Lin says with a frown.

Hamilton blinks and sits up, causing Lin to lower the cloth from his head. “I was just — I think it was a memory,” Hamilton mumbles sleepily as he rubs his head. Lin absently wipes the blood beginning to ooze from his nose.

“Did I open another portal?” Hamilton asks timidly.

“No, but you were glowing. If you weren't glowing, I would have assumed it was only a nightmare,” Lin replies as he feels satisfied Hamilton is no longer bleeding from his nose.

Hamilton sighs in defeat. “How do I stop this from happening?”

Lin places the cloth on the nightstand and shrugs. “I don’t know. I wish I could help you.”

At that moment, they are blinded by all of the lights suddenly turning on. It sounds as if the entire city is humming with life again as lights start shining through the windows. Jon approaches the window and smiles. Even though it’s closed, they can hear the distant cheers of New Yorkers as the power seems to return to the entire city again. Right on cue, the air conditioner begins blowing cool air upon their sweaty skin and they sigh with relief.

“Hey, the power’s back on!” Anthony shouts enthusiastically from the living room. His voice is laced with sleep, but his chipper tone is still distinguishable.

Lin is certain that the responding low grumbling is from Daveed.

Hamilton grins as he leans over to blow out the candle on his night stand. “I suppose we will no longer be needing these now that your electricity has returned.”

* * *

The morning comes with a buzz. Lin having to deal with phone calls with family members and also regarding the cancelled show and working out if they should just perform last night's show tonight — or if they should just give the refunds. Lin opts into giving full refunds so they can have the day off to figure out the Hamilton situation. 

They all make their own breakfast with whatever food didn't go bad in Jon's fridge. Hamilton has been eerily silent since Lin had last spoken to him last night and he leaves him alone for now.

Pippa walks in, hanging up the phone. "We're going on a field trip today," Pippa announces as she slumps in the barstool beside Lin.

"A field trip?" Anthony asks with a mouthful of bagel.

"Where are we going?" Jon wonders with his head resting in his hand.

"Should we really be taking Glowy-Ham anywhere?" Daveed mutters with a frown. 

"I figured we could figure this out in a place Hamilton recognizes," Pippa replies, ignoring Daveed entirely. 

"Did you just call him  _ Glowy-Ham?" _ Anthony whispers, leaning closer to Daveed with a low chuckle.

Hamilton turns to face her, frowning. "Somewhere I recognize, you say? What the hell do you have that I could possibly recognize?"

"Valley Forge," Pippa says smoothly, causing Lin to choke on his OJ.

"We are  _ not _ going to Valley Forge," Daveed grumbles tiredly.

"Valley Forge still stands?" Hamilton inquires with wide eyes.

"Yeah. It's a museum now," Pippa replies earnestly. 

Hamilton opens his mouth to respond but clamps it shut in astonishment. Pippa has left him speechless.

"I agree with Daveed," Lin says slowly after putting his juice down. "We shouldn't risk taking Hamilton anywhere. Not when we don't entirely understand his condition."

"Glad someone else here has some fucking sense," Daveed grumbles in agreement as he picks at his soggy pancakes with his bent fork.

"Sitting in here is boring," Pippa drones. "And I just got off the phone with them and told them the cast of Hamilton was coming and we already have a tour booked so it's too late."

"I would actually quite like to see Valley Forge if it is of no trouble," Hamilton mumbles meekly. "Perhaps being in a familiar place, as Pippa suggests, might help. I realize that these strange  _ abilities _ are typically triggered when I am overwhelmed and the future is quite overwhelming." 

"Alright, that's actually kind of fair," Daveed replies with a shrug. "If you think you'll stay calm in a place you recognize then sure, I'm in."

_ Would going to Valley Forge even help? _ From Lin's understanding, Valley Forge will not hold any good memories for Hamilton and he worries that the bad memories might trigger his strange superpowers. The others agree excitedly and Lin doesn’t say anything, but he knows it doesn’t matter — he is out-voted.

* * *

_ Lin-Manuel Miranda is a playwright — not a murderer. _ Lin stares at the scene in front of him, nearly biting his fingers. He watches anxiously as Pippa shows Hamilton how to put gas in the rental van. He taps his foot quickly and drums his fingers on his lips to resist the urge to leap forward and stop this.  _ Why are they here? Why couldn’t they just stay at Jon’s apartment? This was a bad idea — Lin can feel it. _

Hamilton smiles proudly as he puts the gas hose into the gas chamber of the silver 2013 Toyota Sienna. Jon places a firm hand on Lin, causing him to stop fidgeting.

“Relax. He’s doing fine,” Jon says calmly, adjusting the backpack strap over his shoulder. “It’s been an hour on the road and we only have another hour left — he’s been fine this whole time.”

“Why does she have to show him how to put gas in a car. It’s unnecessary,” Lin grumbles.

“You’re one to talk — you taught him how to use Google,” Jon replies with a cocked brow.

“That was for practical reasons — we were figuring out how to get him home.  _ This _ —” Lin gestures widely towards Hamilton pumping gas “— _ this is pointless.  _ You guys are just showing him useless things from the future and taking us on a fucking feild trip to Valley Forge because  _ ‘the apartment is boring!’ _ I’m worried about him — the longer he’s here, the more unstable he gets,” Lin says hurriedly, his face twisting into a deep frown and his eyes locked onto Hamilton.

Jon hums but doesn’t respond.  _ ‘I’m right and he knows it.’ _ Lin thinks bitterly to himself with a bit of pride at Jon’s lacking response.

“Life isn’t just about focusing on your destination. We will get him back home, but let us have fun along the way? I mean — look at them.” Jon lifts his hand to gesture towards the scene continuing to unfold. Hamilton proudly puts the pump away and says something to Pippa, making her laugh. Anthony hands them both a Slurpee and Hamilton eagerly grabs the little cup, drinking from it like a child. He groans loudly and grabs his head in pain whilst Anthony and Daveed bark out with laughter; Pippa soothes Hamilton with a gentle rub of his shoulder. Hamilton smiles at her with his eyes crinkling and his brows lifting.

Lin softens a bit at the sight. “That right there is the first time I’ve seen him genuinely look happy since I met him," Jon continues. "I know you’re worried — we all are. But if we let the worry eat away at us then we’ll just kill ourselves over stress.”

Lin looks over at Jon and suddenly feels very guilty for being bitter. Jon argues a solid point — Lin hasn’t had a moment to just breathe and enjoy himself. He and Hamilton have been relentlessly working non-stop to send him home and he never even considered taking a moment to realize that they’re both people who need a break.

They return to the road without a hitch, and Lin leans over to tap Jon’s shoulder. Pippa is the only one who they trust to drive and Jon had called shotgun, which leaves Lin and Hamilton in the middle row while Daveed and Anthony are in the far rear of the van.

“Hey, you mind putting on some music?” Lin whispers.

“I thought you said we should sit in silence to not overwhelm Hamilton?” Jon replies in a light-teasing tone.

Lin scowls at Jon before looking at a curious Hamilton and sighing with defeat. “You were right. We can still have some fun. Just — don’t put on anything too hardcore.”

Jon smiles before leaning over to plug his phone into the AUX cable that came with the rental van. Lin leans back in his seat and smiles at the melody of the piano gracing his ears through the speakers of the van. He turns around and smiles at Daveed and Anthony who seem to be pleased with the song choice, swaying their heads to the tune. Hamilton watches everyone with a look of befuddlement.

“Blue jean baby, LA lady!” Daveed and Anthony sing obnoxiously loud along with the song.

“Seamstress for the band!” Pippa joins in. Jon laughs and Lin smiles at Hamilton.

“What is this?” Hamilton inquires as the verse continues with everyone singing along.

“It’s called Tiny Dancer by Elton John,” Lin replies earnestly. “It’s not necessarily modern music since it was released in the nineteen-seventies, but we still love it.”

Hamilton hums in contempt, smiling fondly as everyone starts singing purposely off-key — nearly yelling the words at this point. Hamilton chuckles, leaning closer to Lin. “Why are they singing so poorly? I know they can sing well.”

“When you’re singing with friends, it doesn’t matter if you know the words or if you know the notes — you just sing!” Lin replies before falling into the song with the group, singing as awfully as possible to prove his point.

“But oh how it feels so real! Lying here, with no one near but only you— you can’t see me. When I sing softly—slowly!”

Hamilton’s smile nearly splits his face as he watches them sing the chorus with pure astonishment. He starts to sway his head to the melody and hums along — Anthony encouragingly pats his shoulder from behind.

Anthony stops singing. “Sing it, man!” 

Hamilton bashfully shakes his head. “Oh, I do not know how it goes…”

“You’ve got the melody! C’mon, we’re not here to judge,” Anthony chimes brightly.

Hamilton leans forward, furrowing his brows to listen carefully. “Hold me closer tiny dancer,” Hamilton sings and everyone cheers. “Count the hmmhmm on the—hm—way!”

“Holy shit, he’s doing it!” Daveed declares excitedly.

“Lay me down in sheets of—linen!” Hamilton sings proudly, smiling at Lin. “You’ve had a busy day today!” They both sing together loudly.

“That was the best thing I’ve ever witnessed in my life,” Anthony proclaims with a loud chuckle.

“I am no stranger to singing with groups,” Hamilton replies as the song continues in the background. “I hadn’t realized it was still something people did.”

“No matter what year it is, people will always be brought together with music,” Pippa replies with a smile in the rearview mirror before returning her attention to the road.

“Hear, hear!” Hamilton advocates with a lift of his hand as if cheersing a mug of invisible ale. “I do enjoy this composer… This  _ Elton John. _ Mayhaps we listen to more of his music?” Hamailton requests with a lifted brow.

“Absolutely — I’ve got his greatest hits album downloaded on Spotify,” Jon replies as he thumbs through his phone, most-likely queuing every Elton John song he has on there.

“I do not understand what a greatest hits album is but I am eager to listen to more of his work if that is what it entails,” Hamilton announces excitedly and Lin can’t help but stare in awe at this grown man looking like a child in a candy store. For the first time in the past few days, Lin genuinely feels at ease and is grateful for his friends making this less of a burden for them — especially for Hamilton. 

* * *

On the drive to Valley Forge, Lin has learned a few things about Hamilton. One; he’s not a terrible singer. Not  _ amazing, _ but not bad.  _ With some practice, he could really hone in on that skill. _ Two; Hamilton really likes Elton John and STYX. Jon played one song for each artist and Hamilton was enraptured by every single one played after the first — except for Crocodile Rock. Hamilton hated that song with a burning passion and would not shut up about it until they shut it off. Three; Hamilton doesn’t seem to like  _ any _ music that was released after 1990 — the only exception was Somebody That I Used To Know.

Pippa pulls the van into the parking lot of the historical park and Hamilton frowns through the window.

“None of this strikes me as familiar,” Hamilton grumbles as they retreat from the van. Jon slides the backpack over his shoulders after double-checking it still has their water inside.

“We’re just in the parking lot, bro. Wait ‘till we get past the guest center,” Anthony replies with a slap on Hamilton’s shoulder. Hamilton tenses under Anthony’s hold and shuffles away.

“There used to be nothing but farmland as far as the eye could see,” Hamilton laments as he looks around curiously at all of the parked cars.

“You sound like an old man lamenting about the good old days,” Daveed teases as they approach the guest center.

“Dude, I swear that was an exact quote from Back to The Future,” Anthony mumbles, mostly to himself.

“I believe we are of similar age, sir,” Hamilton replies to Daveed bitterly.

“Oh shit, wait — that’s something I wanted to ask you, bro! What year were you  _ actually _ born? Was it seventeen-fifty-five or seventeen-fifty-seven?” Anthony asks excitedly.

Hamilton pauses, causing the others to stop as well. He glares at Anthony, his lips twisting into a frown. “If you must know, I was born in seventeen-fifty-seven.”

“Historians think it was seventeen-fifty-five,” Lin replies with a shrug.

“You asked me what year I was born and I told you. Believe who you must,” Hamilton grumbles before turning sharply on his heel and proceeding to walk. “Anyhow, I am thirty-seven years of age — thirty-eight years in January.”

“Ah, well either way — I’m thirty-four so you’re still older than me,” Daveed says with a chuckle. “And heeey, January babies!” Daveed adds, bumping into Hamilton with a bright smile.” This earns a ghost of a smile to appear on Hamilton's lips before vanishing. “Lin’s also a January baby. He’s thirty-six so you’re both pretty much the same age—”

“Okay, enough about birthdays,” Lin drones tiredly. His legs are numb and his head hurts. “Let’s just go inside.”

They all enter the guest center and Hamilton gazes in awe at the displays. He stares at a statue of George Washington and snorts. “Please, I beg of you to tell me that you do not have statues of Washington everywhere,” Hamilton whispers.

“Dude, his face is carved in a mountain,” Anthony replies, leaning over with his hands in his pockets.

Hamilton blinks quickly at Anthony in astonishment and then laughs. “Ha! If he could see this he would be absolutely outraged! Are you aware he  _ despises _ any correlation with royalty?”

“I think that was lost in translation through time,” Pippa whispers with a soft grin.

Hamilton shakes his head, chuckling to himself as they approach the front desk. “Face carved into a mountain…” Hamilton mumbles in disbelief with a silly grin. Lin smiles sluggishly like the cartoon Grinch, snorting at the absurdity of it.

They pay their way in, receive a map, and go off onto the property. Lin feels eyes on him and turns his head, making accidental eye contact with a middle-aged man standing nearby with another man around his age. Lin swiftly averts his gaze and they move forward. As they wander around, Hamilton seems to grow more at ease — they no longer need the map as Hamilton unintentionally leads the way and begins mindlessly telling them what each building is, only hesitating with the modern buildings.

_ “Last I recall, this had been placed over there!” _

_ “This was one of the cabins soldiers slept in!” _

_ “I feel this barn was much larger before?” _

And then they make their way to the old headquarters for their scheduled tour and Hamilton stares up at it with a lost look in his eyes. His fingers twitch as he stares openly at the house, seeming to take in every stone, every window, and landing his eyes on the door.

“This was the Pott’s Residence,” Hamilton whispers.

“Welcome to Washington’s headquarters! Did you know this house belonged to the Pott’s family?” The tour guide says in a chipper tone.  _ This is gonna be a long tour. _

They enter the building and Hamilton frowns at the aide-de-camp office. “This was the parlour that Washington’s aides-de-camp used to work in. We set it up to recreate what it would have looked like. Any fans of Hamilton will know this is where Alexander Hamilton worked!” The tour guide explains brightly.

“This does not look anything like it. The tables are positioned in the wrong places,” Hamilton whispers, causing them to grin and repress their laughter.

The tour moves along to the kitchens. “This is where the servants would make food for Washington and his aides.”

“I used to charm the women in the kitchen into giving us extra ale, coffee, or a slice of bread,” Hamilton murmurs, causing Anthony to laugh.

They move their way upstairs to the bedrooms. “We believe this was where Washington slept.”

“I recall having to build the bed Washington had bought when his wife was coming to stay. You should have seen us attempting to bring in the pieces of the bed. Laurens had nearly fallen down the stairs!” Hamilton whispers and Pippa snorts ungraciously.

“And this was where the aides slept. Hamilton had most likely slept in here,” the tour guide adds when they enter the second larger bedroom.

“I never slept in here,” Hamilton mumbles in response. They try very hard to hide their growing laughter at Hamilton’s sarcastic commentary. 

They make their way to the third and final bedroom on this floor. Lin zones out the tour guide as he stares at Hamilton, seeing him shift and stare silently into the room. As the tour moves on, Lin taps his shoulder.

“What was in this room?” Lin whispers.

“Nothing, really,” Hamilton replies before turning around. “Tis only a room. Let us continue our tour, shall we?”

Lin frowns but follows the group up the stairs into the attic. “And this is the garrett,” the tour guide announces. “A little fun fact for Hamilton fans — Lieutenant-Colonel John Laurens had apparently hit his head on the sloped ceiling multiple times, according to George Washigton himself.”

“That one is true,” Hamilton whispers with a snort.

The tour seems to move on, but Hamilton doesn’t move. Lin notices this and stops the others.

“Hey, tour’s going downstairs,” Jon says lowly.

Hamilton ignores him and climbs over the barricade blocking them from the room. Lin suddenly feels panic settle in. “Woah, woah — Hamilton, you can’t do that!”

Hamilton continues to ignore them as he determidly walks to a spot in the room and crouches down, knocking on the wooden flooring.

“What the fuck is he doing?” Daveed hisses. Anthony shrugs and goes over the barricade. 

Pippa and Jon soon follow and Lin sighs in defeat. “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em,” Lin mumbles as he climbs over.

“Well I’m staying here in case the tour guide comes looking for us,” Daveed whispers harshly as the group migrates around Hamilton.

“Whatcha doin’ there, buddy?” Lin asks with his hands in his pockets to seem casual.  _ He’s fine. He’s not panicking at all. _

Hamilton hums a low “ah-ha” and begins clawing carefully at the wood. Before they can say anything else, they freeze when Hamilton pulls the piece of the floorboard out and places it aside. He reaches his hand in the hole in the floor and they cringe.

“Bro, don’t stick your hand in there. You don’t know what kind of bugs are crawling under there!” Anthony whispers, flinching everytime Hamilton moves his arm blindly in the hole. 

Hamilton furrows his brows up at him, opening his mouth to respond but then widens his eyes with excitement. “Ah, I found it!” Hamilton pulls out an old leather-bound book. “I cannot believe it is still here!” Hamilton says with astonishment as he carefully flips the book in his hands to examine it.

“What the hell  _ is _ that?” Jon asks nervously.

Hamilton smiles fondly at the book and opens it carefully. The page inside the cover simply says  _ ‘property of John Laurens’  _ in scrawled chicken-scratch-like handwriting _. _ The other page is a few sketches of various birds. “It’s a sketchbook,” Lin mutters aloud. He had not meant to say it.

“Yes,” Hamilton replies, his voice sounding distant as he cautiously flips through the old pages. The worn paper appears like they might disintegrate under Hamilton’s hands, and most of the sketches are far too faded to even be legible anymore. But the ones they can see are — well, they’re  _ beautiful _ . “He had thought he lost it during one of our marches between camps. It seems that he had forgotten to take it from his hiding place all this time...Dumb fool.” Hamilton says this with such fondness that it warms Lin’s heart.

“John Laurens drew all of this?” Anthony whispers in awe. “He was talented as fuck.”

Hamilton hums, smiling up at Anthony and nodding. “Yes. He was quite shy about his artwork, but I have always loved it. He rarely allowed me to see his work — but I was stubborn and continuously insisted upon looking at its beauty — oh, he truly captures General Washington in this one,” Hamilton says distractedly, turning the book to show everyone the drawing in question. It’s a faded ink sketch of a younger George Washington smiling softly and Lin feels chills run down his spine.

Pippa kneels beside Hamilton and reaches carefully for the book, looking at him for permission. Hamilton hands it to her gingerly and leans back on his heels as Pippa, Jon, Anthony, and Lin carefully flip through the sketchbook together. At some point, Daveed appears beside Lin, silently peeking over his shoulder.

Lin notices that most of the drawings are of men’s hands holding quill’s and of Hamilton, himself. He stares at one of Hamilton's profile as he is hard at work. Lin has seen a similar scene himself and Laurens got every detail right. The way his eyebrows scrunch together and how he chews his bottom lip as he scribbles furiously.

“Most of these are of you,” Lin says out loud, looking at Hamilton — testing the waters. He wants to see his response.

Hamilton stays very quiet and the fond grin on his face has not faltered in the slightest. He has an almost dreamy look in his eyes and Lin feels his heart pound because he knows that look — he’s looked like that himself whenever he looks at his wife or his son. 

“Yes, they are,” Hamilton whispers. They all exchange curious glances between each other at this revelation. 

“He loved you,” Jon whispers so quietly, Lin almost didn’t hear it.

“And I loved him,” Hamilton replies, carefully taking the sketchbook from Pippa. “He was my dearest  _ friend, _ after all.”

Lin feels like he was just punched in the gut. Something about what Hamilton said feels... _ wrong. _ He’s had strange nightmares and opened portals — all relating to John Laurens. Lin suddenly feels like he just unlocked a strange secret about Hamilton and worries about everything he had said before about  _ sinning _ and being  _ punished _ for—

“Were you just friends, though?” Lin asks quietly.

Hamilton closes the book sharply, causing all of them to flinch. Hamilton stands up, frowning at Lin. “I do not know what you are implying, sir. We were friends  _ and _ we were colleagues, if that is what you intended to say.” Hamilton seems dismissive now, blunt and curt. His eyes glow for a moment but it fades as he seems to focus on his breathing. He marches to the barricade and climbs over it. “We have been missing for too long. They'll surely be looking for us by now.”

“Wait, you can put the book in my backpack — they’ll probably think you stole it,” Jon says as he quickly follows Hamilton.

The others follow them out of the garett and Lin puts the floorboard back in its proper state before leaving as well. Something very strange had just happened —  _ and that’s saying a lot, considering all of the events that have occurred over the past few days.  _

* * *

They stand in line at the cafeteria in the Guest Center. Lin gazes around the room — it’s not very busy here but that is most likely due to the fact that some people still haven’t gotten their power back in some places. He recognizes the pair of men from earlier but pays them no mind. He watches Hamilton, trying his best to be discreet about it. He’s probably failing, though, because Hamilton keeps catching his eye and frowning.

“Yo, Alex. Did you wanna get a hot dog?” Anthony asks after turning away from the menu board.

“I have no idea what that is but I do not see why not. I will give it a try,” Hamilton replies with a small smile.

“Oh, I love your accent. It’s very exotic sounding,” a woman behind them says suddenly, catching their attention.

“I beg your pardon?” Hamilton says quizzically, frowning at the woman behind them with the Long Island Medium haircut and bug-eyed sunglasses.

“Are you from the Carribean by chance? My husband and I went on a cruise there last winter and you sound just like the locals there,” the woman says with a smile. She seems to mean well by complimenting Hamilton’s accent, but they can’t be drawing too much attention to themselves. Hamilton shifts uncomfortably from one foot to the other and his lips pull into a strange look; Lin doesn't like it when Hamilton looks self-conscious.

“He’s from New York,” Lin replies quickly before turning around to prove his point that their conversation is done. She unfortunately doesn't take the hint.

“Oh, no I meant where were you from  _ originally _ . With an accent like that you surely aren’t an  _ actual _ American.” Lin really wants to punch this lady. He looks at Hamilton and sees confusion and hurt written all over his features. Of course he would be self-conscious about where he is from. He probably has to deal with assholes berating him about his roots in his own time — now he has to deal with modern day people doing the very same thing. Lin wants to tell her he’s one of the Founding Fathers of this country — that America would not exist without him. He even set up their financial system — and yet he is being belittled like he is worthless. 

“He’s American. Fuck off, lady,” Lin snaps over his shoulder before promptly facing forward to show they are no longer having this conversation. She finally takes the hint this time and doesn’t respond.

They all pay for their food and bring it to a table. There is a band playing very old tavern-style music in the corner — probably to set the mood for the historical park or something. They seem to blend in well as Hamilton is not the only guest here dressed in a ‘costume’. There are plenty of people wearing 18th-century blue army coats and white powdered wigs. They even had a few people approach them asking for their autographs which they politely obliged to do so. It’s been a good day — except for that weird moment in the Garret of the Pott’s house. Lin still wonders how Hamilton stopped his eyes from glowing — and most importantly, wondering why they started glowing in the first place.

“I was thinking,” Lin says, continuing his train of thought aloud. “Maybe your abilities might have something to do with your emotions?”

Hamilton puts his hot dog down and tilts his head. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Not to bring up awkward memories, but when you got angry earlier, your eyes glowed — and then they faded when you calmed yourself down,” Lin says carefully. "And last night—you were glowing and then stopped when we woke you up and calmed you down." Lin absently stirs the straw in his cup. “It was just an observation that I thought I’d bring to the table.”

“That’s true. And right before the incident yesterday—” Jon leans in, whispering conspiringly “—you were angry about the musical when you started getting all glowy."

“So, we have an eighteenth-century Incredible Hulk that is blue instead of green,” Daveed grumbles before taking a bite of his food.

“A Hamil-Hulk, if you will,” Anthony adds cheekily. Pippa smacks his arm lightly.

“I hope you regret speaking at all, honestly,” Daveed replies to Anthony with an unimpressed frown.

"You started it when you called him Glowy-Ham this morning," Anthony replies with a pout, rubbing his arm automatically.

“What the hell are you two on about?” Hamilton asks with baffled features.

“Ignore them,” Lin whispers dismissively. “All you need to know is that I think your  _ abilities _ are controlled by your emotions. The fact that you stopped it earlier proves that they  _ can  _ be controlled.”

“And how does one simply  _ control _ their emotions?” Hamilton huffs indignantly with folded arms over his chest.

“Good question,” Jon says with a mouthful of hot dog. Pippa rolls her eyes fondly. “Maybe you could try meditating — or therapy.”

Daveed chokes on his coca-cola and Lin sighs, rubbing his forehead tiredly.

“Therapy?” Hamilton says the word slowly. “What is that?”

Everyone stares at him with sad eyes. “Right, you don’t...you don’t have much knowledge about mental health in your time,” Anthony says quietly. “Therapy is when you talk about your feelings with a doctor who specializes in, like, the brain.” Anthony taps his temple before lifting his soda to sip from it.

Hamilton snorts and shakes his head, picking up his hot dog. “That sounds utterly ridiculous.”

“Actually, it’s really useful,” Pippa replies earnestly. Hamilton pauses in his motion and frowns at Pippa. “People who grow up with trauma, for example, benefit greatly from it. The doctor helps guide you in finding healthy coping mechanisms for your struggles.”

Hamilton slowly puts his hot dog down, staring at it with a lost look in his eyes. “Trauma?” He whispers, looking up at Pippa with a scowl. “I do not have such a weakness.”

“It’s not a weakness, Alexander,” Jon says, placing a hand on his shoulder delicately. “A lot of people struggle with something. You aren’t alone.”

“The only struggle I have is attempting to return home,” Hamilton replies curtly before promptly continuing to eat.

“Alex—”

“I am done having this conversation,” Hamilton cuts Lin off, his tone sharp. “We should be more concerned with returning me to my time. Not dwelling on this therapy nonsense.”

“We think it will help you,” Pippa replies sadly. "If you could control your temper, you might be able to control the very ability that can send you home."

“I do not need to condone your ways of life,” Hamilton snaps. “It seems the future has its faults as it may have its wonders.”

Lin sighs, rubbing his eyebrow and leaning on his elbow. “Don’t let that woman cloud your judgment on the things we suggest that could help you.”

“ _ Really? _ Because it seems that regardless of the fact that  _ two centuries _ have passed, I am  _ still  _ belittled for how I was born,” Hamilton replies harshly. He blinks and his eyes begin to glow, causing all of them to freeze, staring silently at him as if he’s about to blow up like a bomb. Hamilton takes notice of their rigid postures and silence and he puts his food down, closing his eyes and breathing slowly. “I apologize,” he mutters softly. “I know you are only trying to help. But please, may we discuss this later when we are no longer around other innocent bystanders?” They suddenly remember the room of people around them that's paying them no mind and seemingly oblivious to their conversation.

Lin glowers at Jon and Pippa, shooting a look that silently screams,  _ ‘I told you we shouldn’t have come here!’  _ They cast their glances away from him, ashamed.  _ They received his message loud and clear. _

“Yeah, let’s finish our lunch and then head home?” Daveed suggests cautiously. Hamilton opens his eyes and they all sigh with relief when they no longer appear to be glowing anymore.

Lin doesn't mention the glowing eyes again.

They finish their meals in amicable silence, the thick energy from their conversation fading as time passes by. They listen to the band perform since Hamilton seems to be at peace with the music — the familiarity of home seems to keep him at ease for now.

The band begins playing a new song and Hamilton smiles widely, turning to the group excitedly. “I love this song!” He elates jauntily. He lifts his glass of water and sways along with the tune. He seems different now than when they were in the van listening to ‘modern’ music. He seems more open and loose, raising his cup to his lips before placing it back on the table on time with the melody. “How stands the glass ah—round? For shame you take no care, my boys. How stands the glass around? Let wine and mirth abound…”

Hamilton’s voice is simultaneously smooth and gravelly; his register is deep and smooth like honey on toast. His singing is better when he is more confident with the lyrics, and Lin finds himself almost mesmerised.

The song ends after a long time and they all clap for the band before getting up to leave the historical park. As they exit, Lin glances at the table where the two men from earlier were sitting and finds it empty.

They trudge through the parking lot and pile into the van tiredly without exchanging many words. Daveed is in the front now whilst Anthony and Jon are in the back — Hamilton and Lin are in the middle row as before. Pippa puts the car in reverse and pulls out of the parking lot. Daveed puts on September by Earth, Wind & Fire since Hamilton has shown a slight interest in funk music on their drive there.

Lin notices Pippa’s eyebrows in the rearview mirror furrowing deeper everytime she looks through it. He frowns in concern. “Hey, Pip. Everything alright?”

“Yeah — no, sorry,” she says distractedly, switching lanes quickly and then looking in the rearview again. Her frown deepens into a baffled scowl. “It’s just...this SUV has been following us since we left Valley Forge…”

Daveed looks in the passenger rear view mirror whilst everyone in the back two rows turn around to look out the back window. Right on their tail is a shiny black SUV and something in Lin’s blood seems to drop into an icy sensation.

“Should we be concerned about that?” Anthony comments nonchalantly as he and Jon face the front again.

Lin squints, trying to get a good look at the two people in the front of the SUV. It’s hard to tell from here but he has a gnawing feeling that he knows who they are. “I think we were followed at Valley Forge as well,” Lin says timidly. “There were two men I kept seeing around. I didn’t think much about it at the time but...I saw them every time I felt like I had eyes on me. I don’t know how else to describe it — it can’t be a coincidence, right?”

“Why would we be followed?” Anthony asks worriedly. “I mean, there’s no reason for someone to suspect us of anything, right?”

“You have a time fugitive in your possession,'' Hamilton replies in a gravelly voice. "Perhaps I have been discovered by our unwanted company."

“Pull off here,” Daveed says quickly and Pippa reacts swiftly, turning the wheel and jerkily exiting the highway last second. The SUV behind them swerves and follows them on the off-ramp.

“Shit, they’re still following us!” Jon yelps nervously.

“Fuck, do you think the FBI is following us?” Anthony adds in a panicked tone.

Lin begins panting, rubbing his head stressfully. “Fuck fuck fuck, I said we shouldn’t have left the partment. I knew this would be dangerous. Why did I agree to let you guys help!?”

“That doesn’t matter now. What matters is how the hell do I get these guys off our asses!?” Pippa yells as she anxiously makes a sharp right turn at the red lights and groans in frustration when the SUV swoops behind them moments later.

“Can this go any faster?” Hamilton asks in a commanding tone.

“There are speed limits — I can’t just break the law!” Pippa replies, her voice sounding more panicked.

“Make more turns. Cut them off,” Hamilton orders, to which Pippa obliges, making abrupt sharp turns down random streets they pass by.

_ “Ba de ya, say do you remember? Ba de ya, dancing in September — Ba de ya, never was a cloudy day!” _ The music continues in the background as they rigidly swerve through the foregin roads of New Jersey, failing to lose the persistent SUV behind them.

Hamilton turns to Lin. “Do you have a pistol?” He barks this like it’s an order rather than an inquiry.

“What, no!” Lin replies loudly, shocked. “Why would you ask that!?”

“Because we could lose them if you gave me a pistol and I—”

“No, nope, nuh-uh — nobody in here is shooting at anyone!” Daveed intercepts, his right hand tightly gripping the handle on the roof of the van.

“What is happening!?” Anthony yells. “Fuck, I just wanna go home, man!”

“I’m working on it!” Pippa replies as she makes another sharp turn that causes everyone to lurch in the opposite direction, luckily being stopped by their seatbelts. Hamiltona and Anthony hit their heads against the windows as Pippa straightens out on the road; they groan and rub their sore heads.

“We can’t go home! We’re being followed by the fucking Men In Black!” Daveed yells gratingly, his knuckles turning white from their powerful grip on the handle above his head.

“We must lose them first and then we can go on from there!” Hamilton yells furiously. He puts a gentle hand on Pippa’s shoulder from behind. “You are doing wonderful but we must gain speed.”

“I don’t know, I don’t think I can do that!” Pippa replies nervously, never tearing her eyes from the road ahead.

“Follow my lead, Pippa. You must trust me,” Hamilton replies earnestly. She sighs and nods. Hamilton’s features remain stoic as he stretches his arm out with his palm flat. “Stay on this stretch and go faster. Do not turn!”

Pippa pushes her foot harder on the gas pedal and zooms past the intersection. Anthony laughs from the back. “They just swerved, thinking we were gonna turn!”

Pippa smirks and keeps her foot steadily on the pedal. Hamilton looks back and sees the SUV gaining speed on them. He turns back to Pippa. “Brace yourselves, men! Pippa — Stop!”

“What!?” Everyone yells in horror.

“Stop now!” Hamilton yells again, ignoring the cries of the other’s in the van. Pippa slams her foot on the brake and the SUV behind them swerves off the road beside them. Lin looks out his window and makes direct eye contact with the man in the diver's seat —  _ it's them. _ The men he saw at Valley Forge are in the SUV glaring at him through the window.

“Onwards! Go go go!” Hamilton cries and Pippa hits the gas again, causing everyone to jerk backwards into their seats as she goes on.

Daveed begins laughing hysterically. “What the fuck just happened!?”

“Turn!” Hamilton orders, and Pippa follows suit with a sharp turn down a new road. “Keep us out here, away from larger populations. Take the most obscure route you can think of.”

“Yessir!” Pippa replies automatically, slowing down a bit and making a smoother turn. Lin glances at the suburbs around them slowly dissipating into farmland as they drive on.

“Uhh...guys?” Anthony says nervously. Just as they believed they made it out safely, an assortment of vehicles appear from ahead of them and behind them on this lone country road. Pippa slows the van down to a halt and they all stare in bewilderment at the group of vehicles ominously surrounding them.

“Drive through the field!” Lin suggests quickly, but Pippa turns her head and shaks it solemnly at him.

“Look how many of them there are,” she whispers. “We won’t make it. Not in this van.”

Hamilton stares at Lin with owlish eyes. “What do we do?” Hamilton whispers breathlessly.

People in SWAT uniforms exit their vehicles and they create a circular formation round them, all aiming guns at their pathetic silver van. Lin realizes that their music is still playing — he had forgotten in his adrenaline rush. The haunting saxophone melody of Carly Rey Jempson’s ‘Run Away With Me’ begins playing over the average speakers of the rental van.

“Attention! Please exit the vehicle with your hands up!” A magnified voice yells from one of the vehicles; Lin reckons it was  _ probably _ from the dude with the megaphone in his hand.

“This is it,” Daveed whispers. “We’re fucked.”

They begin to slowly retreat from the van with their hands raised awkwardly like a bunch of hopeless oompa loompas. Lin looks over his shoulder at the people behind them slowly inching their way closer with their guns aimed at them like they’re a bunch of ravaged criminals. Lin watches a few people approach them with handcuffs and he looks over at his friends helplessly.

He wishes he could have done something to prevent this. Before it was just him and Hamilton — and now it’s Anthony getting manhandled and handcuffed, Jon struggling as they yank his arms behind his back, Daveed being shoved into the minivan as they aggressively restrain him like he’s some monster, and Pippa who is dragged by the crook of her elbow with a torn look she gives Lin as she is dragged away in handcuffs.

Lin groans as they tug his arms behind his back and he shivers at the feeling of the cold metal clicking around his wrists. Hamilton awaits for his arms to be restricted as someone approaches him from behind. Instead of handcuffs, they pull out a syringe and Lin cries out — Hamilton's eyes widen as the syringe sticks into his neck and his eyelids go droopy as he sways backwards into the arms of a SWAT member. They pull out strange cuffs that cover Hamilton’s hands like metal horse hooves and drag him to one of the big jet-black vans they pulled up next to them. It looks like a prison bus on the inside and Lin’s blood runs cold as the situation finally settles into his brain. They’ve been caught, and Hamilton is considered a big enough threat to put him in a separate vehicle from the others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter turned out way longer than expected. Oops ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Valley Forge + Chaos = Good Storytelling? Anywho, the action/adventure part of the story is ~beginning~! 
> 
> I don’t know if Hamilton was actually a good singer. All of my research left me with dead ends. I just kinda came up with the idea that he was actually a pretty decent singer but only ever sang when he was drunk and/or in large gatherings (like during the holidays) where his voice isn’t quite front and center and masked behind a group of people.
> 
>  _Also, I did some art for the previous chapter if anyone wants to look:_ https://peblezq.tumblr.com/post/634767994064699392/click-on-the-image-to-see-it-in-hd-111320  
>  _And some lovely fanart by @fiaistired on Tumblr based on the previous chapter as well! (Thank you so much, I love it so much!):_  
>  https://fiaistired.tumblr.com/post/635761721550766080/spoilers-some-fanart-for-the-very-intense 
> 
> Everything below is like a bibliography for the chapter:  
> \------------------------------------------------------------------------  
>  **Here is a video Tour of Valley Forge that I used for reference (I don't actually know if the guest center has a statue of Washington, but I really wanted Hamilton to see a Washington statue and mock it - so I added one in this fic):** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QRz-G-bNino&ab_channel=UnravelTravelTV  
>  **You can also check out their website:**  
>  https://www.valleyforge.org/revolution/valley-forge/washington-s-headquarters/  
> Hamilton’s favourite song (I think? The research I did all led to this song but idk if it’s actually his #1 fave song. Artistic liberties were kinda taken with this one) was called “How Stands The Glass Around” (Fun Fact? This is believed to be the last song Hamilton ever sang. He sang it with a bunch of men in a tavern in the days prior to his duel with Burr - Burr was also in the tavern that day as well but didn’t join in the singing probably because he was grumpy/salty about Hamilton “ruining his life”.)  
>  **The Song:**  
>  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-VxlkhsOcRI&ab_channel=JohnTownley-Topic  
>  **Research I found about the song (Side-note, it is locked. I was only able to read it because I used my old college account login and it still worked, lmao xD - I’m sure there are other ways to unlock it):**  
>  https://www.jstor.org/stable/1920510?seq=1  
> Also, Lin-Manuel Miranda mentions the tavern story in Drunk History but he sings “Closing Time” as a joke in that episode because nobody is 100% sure what the song actually was xD. The episode I’m referring to is: Season 4 Episode 10 - Hamilton “Feat. Lin-Manuel-Miranda”
> 
>  **Fun Fact:**  
>  The North-East Blackout of 2003 was a real thing.  
> Here is the Wikipedia page for it:  
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Northeast_blackout_of_2003


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I challenged myself to have this posted on Saturday morning. (SUCCESS!) I should be able to upkeep weekly updates like a normal human. I will not promise exact dates, but I will continue to leave deadlines for myself so that I can complete this darn story! 
> 
> I made a Spotify Playlist with all the songs mentioned in the previous chapter as well as other songs I didn’t quite mention but were rather implied (and the playlist starts with the song that inspired the title of the fic because I am lame): https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6nxHbJlNs8dlKmkytjXJOH?si=sxUrP68CQZiqDuG0eT-0IQ
> 
> Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback everyone! And to the readers who are quietly hiding in the shadows - thank you, too! The fact that people are enjoying themselves while reading my crazy story means the world to me! :D People leaving a kudos or bookmarking/sharing/subscribing or even just leaving it open on their internet tabs and not really interacting otherwise - thank you! I am grateful I can provide some entertainment in these trying times (:
> 
> Now, onwards to chapter 12! Buckle up kiddos, and allow me take you on a journey!

### °•HAMILTON•°

Hamilton’s eyes flutter open at the feeling of a cool cloth dabbing the sweat upon his forehead. He smiles and nuzzles close to the cloth and the hand holding it hesitates. Hamilton frowns, wondering why Lin has stopped. “Lin?” Hamilton murmurs.

The man sighs and continues dabbing his head. Hamilton opens his eyes and jumps away when he is met with those familiar crystal blue eyes he has not seen in over a decade. “Laurens!?” Hamilton says breathlessly.

He smiles and Hamilton lunges towards him, wrapping his arms around Laurens’ neck in a tight grip. “I missed you,” Hamilton whispers into his neck.

Laurens drops the cloth and returns the embrace, slowly rubbing circles into Hamilton’s back soothingly. “You must know I am not really here.”

Hamilton reluctantly pulls away and frowns at his Laurens. “This is but a dream.”

Laurens hums, nodding his head once before picking up the cloth and resuming his dabbing upon Hamilton’s forehead. “You probably do not remember this time very well since you were ridden with that terrible fever you caught in Albany,” Laurens says with his eyes on the cloth. “I had stayed in this room with you the entire time, caring for you. You only remember moments, and this was one of them. Me wiping the sweat from your head before dozing off again.”

Hamilton looks around. The window shows nothing but a black void, but the room — he is in Valley Forge, inside the third spare room on the second floor of the Pott’s residence. It was intended for generals who would visit, but Hamilton had taken residency here for a week or so when he had fallen ill again after his return from Albany. He gazes into Laurens' eyes and sees every perfect detail as if he were real.

“If this be a dream, why do you look the way you did then? Your face should be distorted in a dream,” Hamilton whispers curiously.

Laurens smiles. “It may be a dream, but tis also a memory.” He continues dabbing Hamilton’s head in the same repeating pattern. “This is all you recall — so it repeats.”

“Why can I speak to you?” Hamilton inquires as he leans back.

“Because tis also a dream, my dear boy,” Laurens whispers endearingly. “Both a dream and a memory.”

Hamilton hums and stares at Laurens’ face. “I never want to wake up.”

“You and I both know that something is amiss — for I am your subconscious and also Laurens’ memory,” Laurens whispers. “When was the last time you had such a wonderful dream?”

Hamilton sits up at that and Laurens continues to dab his forehead as if he had not moved. He rubs his neck — the ghost of a residual feeling upon his skin there. Something sharp sticking in and—

“I need to find Lin,” Hamilton declares. “I have gotten him and his friends in trouble and I must rescue them.”

Laurens smiles at him. “That is my Hamilton I know and love. Go — rescue them. Wake up, my dear.”

Hamilton blinks and hears a strange beeping sound in the distance. He can feel the world around him collapsing as he regains consciousness. “I do not want to leave you again.”

Laurens rests his palm on Hamilton’s cheek and smiles widely at him, full of endearment and love. Hamilton’s insides flip around at the sight and feeling. “I will always be here with you, Alexander.”

“John…” Hamilton’s voice feels dry as he says his name — as if he truly said it out loud. The world dips into blackness like a candle had gone out — leaving Hamilton alone and in pain in the dark.

"...very peculiar indeed. It seems to happen when he is unconscious as well," a feminine voice rings through his ears. His head feels like cotton and everything sounds like he has been dunked underwater. Hamilton peels his eyes open and hears someone gasp.

"He's waking up! Sedate him!" The same voice from before orders firmly. Hamilton feels a sharp object puncturing his skin at his neck and he yerks himself away in a **_JOLT—_**

**_CRASH!_ **

Hamilton fully awakes when he sees the damage he has done. The other people in the room dove out of the way at the last second; there be a dark smudge on the far wall of the room where the strange blue energy from inside him had shot at. Hamilton flinches away from the people approaching him and finds himself restrained.

"What the hell is this!? Where am I!?" Hamilton yells furiously as he struggles within his restraints.

"Mr. Hamilton, please calm down — we are here to help you," the woman in a strange white coat says in a soothing tone.

"Where be Lin and the others?" Hamilton practically growls and the people in the room step back.

The woman turns sharply at them. "Sedate him!" The woman orders firmly.

Hamilton's eyes widen at the man holding a strange object with a sharp-pointed end. He pulls back as the man reaches it to stick it in his neck. "No!" Hamilton roars and the people standing close enough are all thrown backwards as another wave of blue energy surges from his chest.

His head lulls and sways, utterly exhausted. He feels something puncture his neck and he welcomes the blissful numbness that takes over his entire body.

### °•LIN•°

Lin stares blankly at the floor of the van. He glances up at Anthony sitting across from him. They all bounce and shift uncomfortably as the van drives over rough terrain and Lin feels claustrophobic within the confines of the vehicle. After sitting for what felt like hours in this van, they finally stopped and opened the back doors. Each of them are escorted out and they distractedly examine their surroundings as they are shoved down a bunch of hallways in a blur.

The five of them are locked in a room together, all sitting on a metal bench in front of a long table with two metal chairs on the opposite side. Lin notices a small toilet in the corner; the only bit of privacy is nothing but a thin divider shielding it from the room.

“Are any of you hungry? I can get you anything you want,” a burly man with a toupee, sunglasses, and a black suit asks them.

“Not hungry,” Lin mutters tiredly. “Where’s Hamilton?”

“Mr. Hamilton is no longer your concern Mr. Miranda,” the man replies with stoic features.

“What are you planning on doing with him?” Pippa asks anxiously, her fingers twitching as she leans on the cold metal table drilled into the floor.

“My statement to Mr. Miranda applies to the rest of you—” the man clasps his hands behind his back “—Mr. Hamilton is no longer your concern. We have it handled.”

“Who are you?” Daveed snaps. “How can we trust you have the situation handled?”

“You do not trust your own government, Mr. Diggs?” The man snarks in response, causing Daveed’s mouth to click shut.

“So, are you like the Men In Black or somethin’?” Anthony asks with a scowl and a cocked eyebrow.

“That is not the technical term of our division, but sure — if that helps put our job into perspective for you,” the man replies in a deadpanned manner. “Now do any of you require food or water? My job is to make sure none of you die.”

“How considerate of you,” Jon mutters — Daveed elbows him in the rib lightly.

Anthony leans back with a smirk. “As a matter-of-fact, I’m starving. I’d like a Big Mac combo with large fries and a large coke,” Anthony quips nonchalantly. “Actually, make that two combos. It’s been a long-ass day and I’m fucking hungry, bro.”

“Alright,” the man replies — Lin wonders if he is rolling his eyes under the sunglasses.

“Does anyone else want anything?” He tries one last time, but to no avail. Everyone glares at him and he sighs before turning around. “Suit yourselves. I’ll be back with the two big mac combos.” The man exits their cell and a loud grating sound startles them — most likely indicating the door has been locked behind the man.

“Asshole,” Daveed grumbles.

“Why did you order food, Ant?” Pippa hisses in clear resentment, leaning over the table to look at him from the other end of the bench. “We recently had lunch at Valley Forge.”

“Honestly, I’m not even hungry. I just ordered it out of spite to see what they’d do,” Anthony replies with a shrug. Jon and Daveed snort in amusement.

Pippa nudges Lin who has been staring blankly at the far wall. “Lin? You okay?”

Lin turns his head to face her with furrowed brows. “This is all my fault. I didn’t mean for you guys to—”

“Please, enough of that self-loathing shit,” Daveed whines. “We chose to be here just as much as you did the moment we all agreed to help Hamilton. If it’s anyone’s fault, blame him.”

“Woah, harsh,” Jon says, taken aback. “Did you seriously victim-blame Alexander Hamilton?”

“The guy is _no_ victim,” Daveed hisses harshly. “In case you’ve forgotten, he is _Alexander Hamilton._ He isn’t exactly a fucking saint.”

“Neither am I,” Lin snaps. “And neither are you. He didn’t choose to travel into the future. You heard him — he didn’t have those powers before he came. Something else brought him here against his fucking will, you _asshole—”_

“Enough!” Anthony shouts, cutting Lin off. “Please, can we not fuckin’ argue right now? We need to focus on how the hell we’re getting outta here.”

“Anthony’s right. We need to stay level-headed and devise an escape plan — preferably one that includes bringing Hamilton along as well,” Pippa says, encouragingly nodding towards Anthony. He smiles and nods in return. “We all deserve to go home — no matter what mistakes we may have made in our lives,” Pippa adds with a sharp eye on Daveed. He rolls his eyes.

“At least he wasn’t a slave owner…” Jon mutters softly. “If, like, Thomas Jefferson came through the portal, I probably wouldn’t have even offered to help if I’m being honest.”

“Fair point,” Anthony says with a little shrug. “I’d probably not help him either. Hamilton is alright, though. He’s actually kinda dope.”

“He seems very kind,” Pippa says with a bashful smile.

“And funny as hell,” Anthony adds with a wide smirk.

“I must also admit that he was the only cool-headed one in the van when we were being chased,” Daveed says with a strange little smile. “His army-commander skills are kinda admirable.”

“And honestly, he could replace Lin and play himself in the musical with those pipes,” Jon adds cheekily, earning light chuckles from the group.

Lin’s lips quirk up and he shakes his head at the thought. He suddenly frowns and casts his gaze to the table. “He’s just a regular man who wants to go home to his wife and kids…” He looks up and sees his saddened features reflected upon his friend's faces — even Daveed’s. “We have to help him. I couldn’t imagine what I would do if I was on my own two-hundred-years in the future and away from my family.”

They solemnly nod in agreement before startling at the loud grating sound of the door unlocking. The same secret agent from earlier walks in and drops the McDonald’s on the table. “There. Even got you ten packets of ketchup for all of your fries,” the man grumbles before retreating from the room. Anthony doesn’t get the chance to even reply before the loud sound echoes in their eardrums as the door is closed and locked again.

“That was...freakishly fast,” Anthony whispers as he pulls out the food from the bags, his handcuffs clinking and making the task far more difficult than it should be.

“Maybe the government invested in putting a McDonald’s in their _super-secret_ base,” Daveed replies dryly. Anthony holds out the extra combo as an open offer and Lin grabs the food gratefully.

“Thought you weren't hungry?” Pippa says with a playful smirk.

Lin takes a large bite of the burger. “I’m starving. I swear we were in that van for five hours,” he replies with a mouthful of food. “I just didn’t want to ask that asshole for food.”

“You know what, that’s entirely valid,” Jon says as he leans over and steals some fries from Anthony.

“Hey! Get your own damn fries!” Anthony grumbles as he smacks Jon’s prying hands away. Lin can’t help but worry about Hamilton as he takes another bite from the burger.

* * *

Time seems non-existent in this strange government base. They startle at the sound of the door unlocking and opening again long after their food. A woman in a lab coat enters the room, her auburn hair pinned in a swirl bun on the top of her head with two sticks holding it in place. She sits in one of the chairs across from them while another person enters and closes the door behind him. The loud noise comes again, but Lin does not flinch — he glares at the man as he sits in front of them in the second chair.

They both have multiple files in front of them — the woman clearly looks like some type of doctor or scientist while the man resembles an agent or cop with his rolled-up dress-shirt sleeves, a black tie, and black dress pants.

“Hello, sorry to keep you waiting,” the man says in a gruff tone. “I’m Agent Benedict Arnold and this is Doctor Rosalind Lutece.”

Lin snorts. “Benedict Arnold? Are you _serious?”_

He blinks, unimpressed. “Unrelated. I am here to ask you a few questions.”

“Well, are you gonna answer any of _our_ questions?” Anthony replies sharply.

Agent Arnold vaguely gestures to the doctor beside him. “That’s why Dr. Lutece is here — to answer any of your questions.”

“Do you know what’s wrong with Hamilton?” Pippa asks urgently.

“We believe his condition is from travelling through the portal,” Dr. Lutece replies smoothly in a charming British accent.

“Where did the portal—”

“—No, now it is _my_ turn for a question,” Agent Arnold cuts Jon off harshly. “How did you find Mr. Hamilton?”

They all turn to Lin and he sighs. “I was walking home from our Wednesday night show — but I suppose it was already Thursday morning when this happened — but he just… _appeared_ in front of me. In a flashing blue light.”

“That is utterly ridiculous,” Agent Arnold replies with a cocked brow.

“I know it sounds made up but I swear that’s exactly what happened,” Lin explains desperately.

Arnold opens a file and starts taking notes. “So this happened when, exactly?”

“I don’t know? Around one or two in the morning on Thursday?” Lin replies with a shrug.

Arnold looks up from his notes. “Was this the second of June?” Lin opens his mouth to respond but is interrupted.

“Nope, now it’s our turn for a question,” Daveed cuts in. “You asked him two questions, so we get two questions now.”

Arnold slams his fist on the table and they all startle. “You do not have any leverage in here, Mr. Diggs. I would shut my mouth if I were you.”

“We have rights, asshole,” Daveed snaps back.

Agent Arnold slides his folder away and languidly searches through all of the folders on the table before opening one. “Daveed Daniele Diggs, born on January twenty-fourth, nineteen-eighty-two — age thirty-four years. Born in Oakland, California, United States. Parents, Barbara Needell and Dountes Diggs.”

“Congratulations, you know information that anyone can Google about me,” Daveed grumbles with a cocked eyebrow.

“Does Google know that when you were eight years old you had punched a boy in your class nearly to death?” Agent Arnold asks nonchalantly. Everyone looks at Daveed and he pales, his eyes widening at the folder in front of Arnold and his throat bobbing as he swallows uncomfortably.

“What the fuck?” Anthony whispers. “Bro, that can’t be real.”

Daveed doesn’t say anything. “Dav, tell me that’s not legit,” Anthony says slowly.

“Hmm, seems your friends have a new opinion of you, Mr. Diggs.” Arnold leans back. “I have information like this for everyone here. Everything you’ve ever done in your lives, we know about.”

“So what?” Lin snaps, steeling his gaze on Arnold. “He was eight. So what? You can’t threaten any of us with blackmail.”

Arnold smirks and Lin feels his blood run cold — as if he had just accepted a challenge Lin did not intend to put out there. “And you, Mr. Miranda — I am very certain we can persuade you to do as you’re told.”

Lin keeps his expression set into stoicism even though his heartbeat picks up. Dr. Lutece Leans forward, cutting Arnold off. “Perhaps we can just continue with the questioning and move along?”

“No, not until you tell us if Hamilton is alright — and explain how the fuck he got here in the first place,” Lin retaliates.

She smiles a tad but it twists uncomfortably. “Mr. Miranda, if you cooperate with Agent Arnold, I will answer any questions you may have.”

“Does anyone else know about Mr. Hamilton?” Agent Arnold asks too casually.

Lin shakes his head and stands up abruptly. “No, fuck you. Fuck all of you. We did nothing wrong and you have us locked up? Let us go!”

“I’m afraid we cannot do that,” Agent Arnold replies carelessly. “You are now under the permanent custody of the American Government — all of you. You have beared witness to top secret—”

“Oh fuck off,” Lin growls. The others look at him sharply with wide eyes.

Arnold stands up and leans over the table, looking down at Lin with pure fury in his eyes. “Say that again, Mr. Miranda.”

“What are you gonna do? Kill me?” Lin says with hoarse laughter. The others squirm on the bench. “Go ahead.”

“I won’t kill _you,”_ Arnold says then smirks. “But, I did hear the power is still out in Upstate New York. What a shame?”

Lin’s eyes widen. “No.”

“Hmm, yes, I can see it now,” Arnold sits back down and folds his hands over the table. “Breaking News: Lin Manuel-Miranda's wife and son found—”

“Stop!” Lin yells desperately. “Fuck, I’ll tell you anything, hell, you can kill _me_ even—” he collapses in his seat “—please, my family stays out of this!”

Arnold smirks. _The bastard._ “Does anyone else know about Mr. Hamilton?” He asks again, far too calmly.

Lin sulks his head in defeat. “No. Just us.”

Arnold scribbles notes and Lin feels his body go numb. “When did you first notice his strange abilities?”

“Yesterday,” Lin replies. “When he caused the blackout.”

“What happened exactly?” Arnold inquires, digging for more.

“His eyes glowed, lighting came from his hands, and he…” Lin looks away. “He opened a portal or something.”

“Or something?” Arnold mirrors in a mocking tone.

“That is precisely what happened,” Jon replies. “I can confirm it, sir. I was there.” Arnold nods and writes something down. “Inside the portal we saw a younger Hamilton and John Laurens.”

Arnold looks up at Jon’s addition. “How do you know this?”

“They called each other by those names in the portal,” Anthony replies.

“So you witnessed it as if looking through a window but not actually being there physically?” Dr. Lutece asks eagerly and Lin looks over at her curiously. He had almost forgotten her presence.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Anthony confirms with a little nod.

“This is incredible news,” Dr. Lutece whispers to Arnold.

“How is this good news? It was _your_ machine that brought him here in the first place,” Arnolds replies sharply.

Dr. Lutece flips through her notes furiously. “But he has the ability I was working to create with the portal itself. He can actually open specific windows. If I can just study him, sir, and run a few experiments — I could use our research to fix our machine—”

“Woah, woah, _study_ him?” Lin interjects with a wave of his hands, the handcuffs clanking as he does so. “Hamilton isn’t some lab rat. He’s a _human person_ who didn’t volunteer for this shit. What you need to do is send him home if you assholes are the ones who brought him here.”

“We hadn’t intended to bring him here,” Dr. Lutece replies solemnly. “We had only meant to open a window — but in doing so, we found our solution. Mr. Hamilton must have somehow absorbed the portal’s abilities and has control over whether he wants to only _look_ through the other side or actually _go_ through.”

“ _Control?_ The guy can’t control shit!” Anthony says agastly.

“He’s scared,” Pippa adds. “And he needs help. He shouldn’t be poked and prodded.”

“I can’t help him if I do not study him,” Lutece replies with a shrug.

“But—”

“Mr. Hamilton is under our custody now and is _our_ responsibility. All we have left to discuss with you five is you vowing your discretion so you may return to New York and assume your previous lives as if none of this ever happened.” Arnold taps Daveed’s file. “You are currently aware of what we are capable of if you do not cooperate.”

They exchange nervous glances before looking back at Agent Arnold. “We may come to you for any future questions and we will watch to make sure you do not disobey our contract. You’re actors — I’m sure you’re familiar with a non-disclosure agreement.” Arnold leans in. “Do I make myself clear?”

They all hesitantly nod with wide-lost eyes. Arnold hums and nods with some satisfaction and stands up. “Come, Doctor. We have much to discuss regarding the future of this operation.”

Lin doesn’t watch them leave. He doesn’t even flinch when the loud noise indicating the door unlocking and relocking shrills over the speaker. He stares with a lost, dead glare at the far wall. He wants to help Hamilton — but his family is more important. He squeezes his eyes shut and grabs his face; he screams.

_What have they gotten themselves into?_

### °•HAMILTON•°

Hamilton blinks into focus and takes his reading glasses off, rubbing the corners of his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. He places the letter on the table beside his chair and looks up at the commotion in the front foyer.

Angelica and Susan run around the corner, giggling as Philip chases them into the parlour. Hamilton smiles fondly at the children as they run behind his chair.

"Father, help us!" Angelica cries out dramatically.

"Mr. Hamilton, please! He's going to catch us if you do not do something!" Susan adds desperately.

He turns to Philip and shrugs. "I am sorry, but a secret word is required to go beyond this point."

Philip taps his little chin as he ponders this. "Do I get any hints for this secret word?"

Hamilton notices Eliza peek her head into the parlour; he smiles. "You may receive _one_ clue. The secret word is the answer to my riddle," Alexander explains as he notices Eliza and Maria smiling from the entrance. His heart pounds at the sight of them together but carries on. "I am tall when I am young and I am short when I am old. What am I?"

Angelica and Susan giggle as Philip scrunches his face in a ponder. He hums and haws and Alexander smiles amusedly as his son tries to solve his riddle. "Is it...a child?"

Alexander shakes his head. "No. A child grows taller as they grow, son. This shrinks when it gets older."

Philip considers this carefully. Then he smiles brightly, one of his teeth missing from his jubilant grin. "A candle!"

Alexander turns to Angelica and Susan. "You should run. He is correct."

They shriek and run as Philip chases them out of the parlour, their giggles echoing throughout the house. Alexander turns his attention to the two women in the room and hopes his smile does not appear as strained as he feels.

"I am sorry, my dear. If I had known you were working in the parlour I would have—"

Hamilton interrupts Eliza with a wave of his hand. "I was only reading a letter from an old friend, Richard Meade. I do not mind at all."

They both smile lovingly at him and Alexander resists the urge to loosen his restricting cravat tie. He opts to clear his throat and lifts his reading glasses to place them upon his nose again.

"Oh, I hope it is not a bother, but I was hoping you could walk Mrs. Reynolds and Susan home when the hour is out?" Eliza asks sweetly. "They will be staying for supper tonight under my invitation if that is alright?"

Alexander hums and nods, distracting himself with the letter. "Hmm, yes I suppose I can do that." He goes for nonchalance in his tone, not even looking up as he speaks. "When will supper be ready, dear?"

"Soon enough that you should consider wrapping up in here," Eliza replies sweetly, the slight edge to her tone being one of a stern wife hoping to keep him from drowning in his work as usual.

"I will not take too long," Alexander replies, still resolutely keeping his gaze on the letter.

Supper goes by in a flash and Alexander feels as if he be floating and watching himself from a distance. He is distantly aware that he walks Mrs. Reynolds and Susan home. He watches her tuck Susan into bed tenderly and returns to his body again when he pins Maria against her bedroom door and kisses along her jawline.

He closes his eyes as their lips make contact. His pent up frustration snaps into gear as he lifts her and carries her to the bed without releasing her lips. In the month they have been sneaking around together, she had accidentally met his wife and they had easily befriended one other. Her daughter now comes by for playdates while the women sit together and have tea. Then afterwards, Alexander takes Susan and Mrs. Reynolds home.

After they are spent, laying sated under the sheets, Alexander sighs as he rolls out of the bed to redress. He stares at his stockings and frowns. "We must stop this," Alexander whispers before pulling his stockings on. "What we are doing in secret — it must not carry on."

He feels the bed shift behind him as she sits up. He pulls himself to his feet when she tries to hug him from behind. She pouts at him, holding the blanket up for propriety's sake. "But what of Susy? She loves playing with Angie and Philp."

"Our daytime endeavours may continue as my wife and kids are fond of your family," Alexander replies in a low voice. "But this—" he gestures between them feebly "—this secret endeavour must end."

"Please, don't go," Maria whispers. She ducks her head bashfully. "Sir, if I may be so bold, but I think I am falling in love with you."

Hamilton's blood turns into ice at the sentiment; he frowns and shakes his head. "No. Do not be foolish. This is not love."

Maria looks up at him then, her eyes are wide and glossy with unshed tears. "You buy my baby clothes and toys, you invite us into your home, and you have been nothing but kind to me ever since we have met. Forgive me, sir, but nobody has ever treated me so kindly and I cannot help it. I love you."

Hamilton squeezes his eyes closed resolutely. "No."

"Yes, I do!" She cries, hiccuping as a sob escapes her. "I love you, Alexander."

"Well I do not," Hamilton replies sharply, opening his eyes to glare daggers into hers. "I do not love you. I care for you and Susan, but my feelings do not go beyond that. I love my wife, Maria. I am sorry if I somehow convinced you otherwise."

She sniffles and nods in response. Hamilton sighs and rubs his face exhaustedly. The coiled snake within his core makes him nauseous. He has betrayed his Betsey on countless occasions, even when they were betrothed to be wed, he had gone awry. There be only one other than her that he loved, and he had betrayed that person as well by falling in love with Eliza.

"James sent me a letter." Maria's voice startles Hamilton out of his reverie.

"What?" He says breathlessly.

"He wishes to rekindle our marriage — for our child," Maria explains in a low, defeated tone. "I want to say no. I want to be with you."

"Don't put me in this position, Maria," Hamilton grumbles "That is unfair."

"No—no, you are correct. I suppose I just…" She sighs, shrugging pitifully. "I need his support. I am considering to accept his proposal."

Hamilton sighs and slumps down beside her. He stares out the window in a long, thoughtless ponder. "What have we done to our lives to lead us here?" He mumbles blankly, his gaze unmoving from the window.

"I do not know," she whispers in response, leaning her head on his shoulder.

Hamilton looks down at her. "I do still care for you. Just not in the way you had hoped."

"I know, sir. There is no need to remind me," she replies bitterly.

"All I am saying is you do not need to accept his proposal. I can still help you—" she lifts her head up to look up at him "—as a friend."

She considers his offer then shakes her head. "I need him." She kisses his cheek and smiles sweetly at him, holding his chin with her hand. "And you need to return home to your wife."

Hamilton smiles and leans in, kissing her on the cheek before standing up. He slowly retreats from the room and hesitates at the bedroom door. "Goodbye, Mrs. Reynolds."

"Goodbye, Mr. Hamilton." He begrudgingly approaches the door and opens it to leave.

“We never _did_ stop this.” Maria’s voice causes him to pause, turning around and frowning at her.

“Pardon?” He asks with a baffled expression.

“You had walked out that door and came back only a week later to do this charade all over again,” Maria says as she slowly stands up. She wears nothing but a thin white night-gown, her hair like a honey waterfall down her back as she turns to look out the window.

Hamilton turns around and notices the door behind him is closed — _was it not open a moment ago?_ He reaches for the doorknob but to no avail, it will not open.

“You did not truly leave. You were not satisfied — just as your _friend_ had said, hmm?” Maria whispers with a sly smirk over her shoulder. “Lin, was it?”

Hamilton stares at her with wide eyes. “This is another dream-memory. I had fallen asleep again.” Hamilton stares at the floor. “I have to wake up.”

“You cannot wake up yet, my love,” Maria whispers as she approaches Hamilton.

He bumps into the door as she approaches him, resting her hands on his chest. “Please, stop this," he begs helplessly.

“You cannot change the past, Alexander,” Maria whispers into his ear before kissing the spot below it. He cringes at the feeling and tries to squirm away. Her hold on him is tight and constricting.

Hamilton feels something strange buildup from inside and he uses it to push her away. She falls backwards as the blue light from within encompasses her, leaving her in pain on the floor. “I apologize for what I did to you — I should have gone home after walking you back to your house that first night. I was an arrogant fool who _used_ you to _forget.”_

“Forget about what?” She hisses from the floor, the blue glow surrounding her growing brighter.

“You know what,” Hamilton grumbles. “You are only part of my mind — my dream and her memory together.” Hamilton kneels in front of her and furrows his eyebrows. “I may not be able to change my past, but I can sure as hell wake up and save the people I have endangered,” Hamilton asserts with stoic features. “Goodbye.”

Hamilton closes his eyes as the glow burns brighter and the screaming around him grows louder. He snaps his eyes open and lifts his arms, breaking his restraints effortlessly and sitting upright.

“How did he wake himself up!?” One of the men in the room yells to a woman. They all run towards the door and Hamilton chases after them, his arms glowing and sparking with the strange blue energy within him.

Hamilton stops in the doorway and watches the people scattering through the hallways. He looks over at the flashing red light contrasting his blue glow. He flicks his hand at it and lightning shoots from his fingers and shatters the red light into oblivion.

He saunters down the hallway and looks through the small windows of each door he passes by. He stops at a room that appears to be dark on the inside. He holds the doorknob and frowns when he finds it to be locked. His agitation grows, and the glow around his hand intensifies until the knob melts and the door creaks open. He nudges it with his shoulder and steps inside — **_WHACK!_**

Hamilton stumbles backwards and rubs his arm after being hit by something solid. He turns and glowers at the instigator.

“Shit — Hamilton!?” Daveed yelps. He smiles at the sight of Daveed with a chair in his hands. He looks over at the others crouched behind him.

“I was searching for you,” Hamilton replies casually.

“You’re glowing!” Pippa nearly squeaks, her eyes wide.

He looks down at himself. “It appears so, yes.” He looks up at them. “Shall we take our leave, then?”

“Guess our jailbreak plans have changed,” Anthony mutters nervously.

“Your neck!” Lin approaches Hamilton and almost touches him but decides against it. “What did they do to you? It looks like they cut open your neck.”

Hamilton rubs his hand over his neck and flinches at the warm wetness coating his fingers. He frowns at it. “They had me restrained somewhere, but I escaped to help you.”

“Help _us!?”_ Lin gawks, blinking quickly. He looks distraught and lifts a hand to cover his mouth. “You came...to help us.” Lin’s voice is muffled, but it sounds quite like disbelief. “I’m such an asshole...I was gonna sign—”

“—No time to dwell on the past. Let’s just get the fuck outta here. Clearly, we’re winging it,” Daveed cuts in harshly.

They retreat from the room and run through the halls together, searching for a way out. They grow more desperate as they stagger from one hallway into the next in a haze, unable to find their freedom. Hamilton is suddenly stricken with an idea, one that is utterly preposterous.

“What if there is a way to escape not through any doors?” Hamilton says after they enter a small room.

“What do you mean?” Lin asks distractedly, his eyes flitting about from one thing to the next.

“In there! Get them!” Someone down the hall shouts. Anthony and Pippa close the door and lean against it hastily.

“I don’t think we can make it,” Anthony cries. “We’re gonna fucking die!”

“Don’t say that!” Pippa retorts. They bounce as the door bangs once. “We will make it. I know it.” The door bangs again.

“If I open a tear, as we discussed Lin, we could escape through it,” Hamilton says quickly. _BANG._

“That’s insane!” Lin yells furiously. **BANG.**

“You said that tears are like wormholes and wormholes are shortcuts—” **_BANG._** “—I can open one. I can get us out of here!”

“Oh god, just fucking do _something_ already! We can’t hold the door much longer!” Anthony whines tiredly. He scrambles as the door **_BANGS_** again.

Hamilton closes his eyes and focuses on the energy within him. He tries to visualize a place of comfort and safety. He smells an oak tree and a cool winter breeze. He tastes whiskey on his tongue and hears laughter and grumbling within the confines of a make-shift office. He sees golden honey locks flowing in the wind and crystal blue eyes. He sees chapped lips smiling at him from across the room.

Hamilton waves his arms widely and a tear appears; a clear passage to what appears to be the woods.

“Holy shit, you did it!” Jon exclaims.

The door bursts open. They all turn around and face the people on the other side holding very peculiar weapons — just as the ones used when they were captured initially.

“Wait, you don’t know how stable that portal is!” The woman in the white coat screams, shoving aside the men aiming their weapons at them. “Mr. Hamilton, please. Let me help you!”

“Yeah, no—” Daveed states firmly, gripping Hamilton’s shoulder. Hamilton's glow surrounds him and the others in the room gasp. Daveed gawks at Hamilton and then smiles; he appears to not be in any pain.

Lin grabs Hamilton's other shoulder and the glow surrounds him as well. Hamilton watches as Pippa, Jon, and Anthony link hands beside Lin, spreading Hamilton’s blue glow to engulf all of them.

“We’re gonna take our chances with this one,” Daveed continues boldly. “Fuck you!” Daveed yells before lunging backwards into the tear behind them. They fall with him and are captured by a bright harsh light before being consumed by the numbing void of the universe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I oop. (The first chapter to mesh their perspectives)
> 
> No bibliography is required for this chapter since it is just full-on sci-fi, lmao. However, I would like to say that I named the Quantum Physicist character after Rosalind Lutece from BioShock Infinite as a way to pay tribute to one of my favourite games. I didn’t intend to “borrow” some of their rules and whatnot, but I still wanted to pay tribute somehow because, well, I unintentionally borrowed some ideas from that brilliant game. The story in it is just ~chef’s kiss~ (One of the characters in that game has crazy portal-opening superpowers like Hamilton. I kinda put my own twist on his powers and expanded them to make them more useful in a combat situation. I had conveniently forgotten all about this similarity until it was brought to my attention so - whoops?)
> 
> Okay, byeeee
> 
> See y’all in like thirty-seven years with the next update!


	13. ACT III - Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A quick reminder/disclaimer for this chapter:**
> 
> Just a friendly reminder that this is a work of fiction and that the beliefs of the characters do not reflect my own. As such, I had vowed to never project my own political/ethical beliefs onto Alexander Hamilton - so he might say a few things that are very...not okay by today’s standards. You have been warned. ~~Just...people are gonna be assholes in this chapter, that’s all I’m gonna say.~~
> 
> We are finally at the chapter I have been both longing and dreading to write for a ~very~ long time. Finally arrived at ACT III of my 5 Act structure, fam~
> 
> I hope you all enjoy! :D

If Lin could take a moment to breathe and process these past few days, he would find that he would need far more than a _moment_ to do so. Everything hurts; his head, his arms, his back — and he is cold. He shivers at the thought and realizes he is not, in fact, dead — but only slowly regaining consciousness again. After taking a leap of faith with his friends, he finds the twisting knot in his stomach is screaming at him, insisting that he had made an irreversibly terrible mistake. His family is in danger — or at least, their safety has been compromised because of his idiotic choice to help a time-travelling founding father. He had foolishly never considered they could be in danger from his actions — he had hoped if he did it on his own, surely he could keep everyone safe. First, Lin had endangered his friends and now he had endangered his wife and child. _~Excellent~_

Lin peels his eyes open and groans at the feeling of the cold-hard ground under his back. He shivers as he rolls over to sit up and rubs his throbbing head. He examines their surroundings in a haze; all he can see are _trees_ for miles. He looks over and sees his friends all sitting up one by one and coming to the same pained conclusion that he is coming to — _they went through a portal and now they’re lost in the woods._

Lin looks over at Hamilton and crawls over to him hastily when he notices the blood oozing from both of his nostrils. He’s no longer glowing and completely unconscious. Lin clumsily wipes the blood from Hamilton’s nose with the bottom of his shirt until he looks presentable.

“When the fuck are we?” Daveed groans as he rubs his head.

“More like _when_ the fuck are we,” Anthony adds cheekily

Daveed glares at him. “That’s what I said.”

Anthony’s grin wipes away as realization dawns on him. “Oh, shit, yeah — you did say that.”

“Yeah, enough of that—” Jon interrupts, standing up unsteadily. “When _and_ where are we!?”

Pippa nudges Hamilton’s shoulder but he doesn’t budge. “Hamilton? Wake up….” She says soothingly. He doesn’t so much as flinch. Daveed shoves Hamilton roughly and the man starts to choke on air, finally waking up.

“Woah, not cool!” Lin snaps at Daveed as he stands up and brushes the dirt from his jeans.

The rest of the group stands up as well and Lin offers a hand to Hamilton as he finally seems to be aware of his surroundings. “Where the hell are we?” Hamilton asks as he pulls himself up with the help of Lin.

“We were hoping you would know since you brought us here!” Daveed grumbles frustratingly.

“I opened the tear, yes — however _you_ are the one who leapt into it,” Hamilton replies snarkily. “So, in technicality, t’was _you_ who had brought us here.”

“Do you recognize anything?” Pippa asks, ignoring their strange squabbling.

Hamilton examines the environment, his frown deepening as he squints at everything. He subconsciously reaches into his coat pocket and puts on his glasses as he continues to look around. He hums before snapping his head from left to right and then nodding. “As a matter of fact, I _do_ know where we are. Follow me — If I am correct, we shouldn’t be too far…” He trails off and starts marching; the others stumble into an awkward pace behind him, following him like hungry animals.

Lin rubs his arms absently as his gaze wanders around the dull forest they’re trudging in. “So, uh, what year is it?” He asks, mostly to distract himself from the eerie silence of nature. _He hates nature._

“I am not certain,” Hamilton replies, his breath noticeably fogging as he exhales. “I know it be winter, but the year I am uncertain of.”

“Yeah, kinda figured it was fucking winter,” Daveed grumbles as he shivers violently, his hands jammed underneath his armpits. “Thank god there isn’t any snow, at least.”

Hamilton turns to face them with a frown. He pauses to take off his overcoat and hands it to a trembling Pippa. “Here, take it, m’dear. You’re shivering.”

“So are they,” Pippa grumbles bitterly, pointing at the four other shivering men.

Hamilton sighs resolutely. “Just put on the damn coat for my sanity, miss Pippa.” He begins putting the coat on her. “I believe you are the only one here besides myself who could fit into it…” He adds bashfully.

She smiles and tugs the coat snugly over her shoulders, looking at Hamilton as he passes her. “Thank you,” she says sweetly before they continue walking again.

They fall into a steady pace again and Lin notices Pippa reaching into one of the inner coat pockets with scrunched brows. She pulls out a small oval-shaped object and gasps; Hamilton expeditiously turns around at the sound.

“What is the matter?” Hamilton inquires, his voice laced with concern. Pippa stares at the small painting and shows it to everyone. Lin blinks — _it’s a portrait of...John Laurens?_

Hamilton snatches the painting and tucks it in the chest pocket of his coat he was wearing under the overcoat he gave to Pippa. He grimaces but says nothing while he turns and continues walking as if nothing had happened. _That was...weird._ Lin frowns at the back of Hamilton’s head while the man’s set shoulders give off a shielded and frigid demeanour. _This man is one puzzle piece after another it seems._ Lin wishes he wasn’t so closed-off and stubborn. Lin also wishes that he stayed behind to sign that contract with the government. Joining Hamilton feels like an irreversible mistake. His wife and son are at stake and he left them there, all alone, all because of some guy from two-hundred-years-ago with serious trust and emotional issues.

They walk for another five minutes before stopping suddenly and Hamilton signalling them to stay quiet. He points at a barn and Lin’s eyes widen at the camp set beyond the trees. Men in colonial-era coats walk around — many in a familiar shade of royal _blue_ — and Lin’s blood runs cold at the sight.

“What _year_ is it!?” Lin hisses, grabbing Hamilton’s upper arm in a tight grip.

“Hamilton sighs. “I believe it could be seventeen-seventy-eight,” Hamilton whispers before tugging his arm out of Lin’s grasp. “I had recognized the woods when we arrived, but I was not certain of the year until we saw the camp.”

“Dear God, this is the heart of the revolution,” Jon mutters quietly, his gaze scanning the wide expanse of the army camp.

“Stay quiet and follow me. The barn will not be much warmer but we will at least be out of the wind,” Hamilton states in susurration before leading them down the hill. The barn is snuggled away from everything, so slipping into the ramshackle building was not an issue. Lin tries to not laugh at how easy it was to sneak into the continental army camp — _it really was a miracle the Americans won the war._ He off-handedly wonders if they only managed to sneak in because of Hamilton’s knowledge of the area, but decides it is funnier if the men guarding the camp were truly just incompetent. They pass the horses and snuggle themselves behind a bustle of hay, curling close to each other for warmth.

“Whose property is this?” Pippa asks.

“Belongs to one John Wallace, if my memory has not failed me yet,” Hamilton mutters as he looks over the hay before sitting down with the group. “It may be...December of seventy-eight…?” Hamilton mutters to himself, furrowing his brows and adjusting his glasses on his nose. “I am not entirely sure. We were here for a few months during the winter that year.”

“Why here? Why now?” Anthony whispers, his teeth clattering as he shivers.

“I haven’t a single clue, I am afraid,” Hamilton utters softly.

“There must be a reason why you brought us here,” Daveed adds quietly, sulking at Hamilton. “What were you thinking of when you opened the time portal?”

Hamilton opens his mouth to respond but then freezes when they hear the barn door slide open. All of them press their backs against the hay barrels and attempt to hold their breaths as they hear someone walking a horse into the barn. Lin squeezes his eyes shut and prays for this random person from the past to just _leave_ already.

“Laurens!?” A male voice calls from outside the barn. Lin’s eyes snap open and he looks sharply at Hamilton. The man’s face could be red from the cold, but something in Lin is telling him that is not entirely true. Hamilton’s wide blue eyes are scattering everywhere in front of him and his jaw tenses to keep his mouth shut.

“Aye, Tilghman! Tis a pleasure to see you again,” the second male voice — _Laurens_ — replies cheerfully. Lin was expecting...he wasn’t sure what he was expecting Laurens’ voice to sound like. There is a bit of a southern drawl to it, but it sounds more British than anything. It sounds gruffer than the first time he heard Laurens' voice in the portal Hamilton opened yesterday…. _or two centuries from today?_ Lin resists the urge to rub his throbbing head — his brain feels like a mushy slush puddle in his skull from all of this time-travelling nonsense.

The two men in the barn are silent for a moment and Lin listens carefully as he hears patting sounds on fabric before some more shuffling. _They must be embracing._ “How do you all fare?”

“Aye, we’re well. We’ve missed you, Laurens,” Tilghman replies earnestly. “But none so much as Hamilton, I’m sure…”

Lin looks at Hamilton again and he sees the man covering his face with his hand, his lips pulled into a strange scowl. If Lin is not mistaken, he’s certain Hamilton appears to be... _embarrassed._

“Aye,” Laurens replies, his voice trailing into a... _nervous chuckle?_ Lin desperately wants to go home. “Well, I will be sure to give all of them a warm welcome upon my arrival at headquarters. I will be but a moment, I only need to dislodge the satchel from my steed,” Laurens says, grunting as he seems to be unlatching something. Lin hears buckles clink and leather sliding against each other.

Tilghman laughs, it echoes through the barn. “Aye. Best of luck with your battle against your satchel, Laurens. I am expected to be elsewhere at this time, unfortunately.”

The time-travel gang hears the crunching of feet. “Thank you for your most generous offer to aid me with my satchel, Tench!” Laurens calls out gruffly. Tilghman’s laughter echoes away in the distance and Laurens sighs, chuckling to himself under his breath. Lin chances a glance over the side of the mountain of hay, imagining everyone beside him is silently panicking as he leans. He watches Laurens struggle with unlatching the satchel from his horse, cursing under his breath as he does so. The man is extremely tall — far taller than Lin had realized. And his sharp jawline is covered in a dark-blonde stubble. His hair is greasy and his cloak is covered in dust. He looks exhausted from a long journey.

“Damn, Tench...Un-helpful — useless piece of...” Laurens continues grumbling under his breath as he yanks helplessly at the bag. The horse huffs out and trots over to the left away from Laurens. “I know, I know. My deepest apologies, girl. I just need my—”

“Laurens!” Lin’s eyes widen and his mouth hangs open at the sight of a short young man with copper hair standing in the entrance of the barn. His smile is nearly splitting his face in half as he closes the barn door behind him. He practically skips into the barn to approach Laurens who seems stiff and shocked.

“Hamilton,” Laurens breathes as the shorter man approaches him. “You gave me a fright!” They do not hesitate to shake each other’s hands, smiling brightly at each other. Lin glances at the Hamilton beside him and notices everyone has taken to peeking over the hay to watch — except for Hamilton. He stares at the ground with his back against the hay, sitting slumped with defeat. He has a lost gaze in his eyes and Lin suddenly sees how old and tired this man beside him looks compared to the youthful ball of energy in the barn with John Laurens.

“I missed you, my dear boy,” Laurens whispers earnestly, their hands still shaking slowly. Hamilton tugs him forward and they collapse into a tight embrace. Lin cannot help but smile at the scene.

“Five bloody months, my dear, is far too long,” the younger Hamilton mumbles into Laurens’ chest. Laurens pulls back to look down at the young Hamilton and smiles at him. He lifts a hand to tuck a strand curl away from Hamilton’s face and Lin feels his stomach drop and his face heat up. He feels wrong for witnessing a very clearly private moment. He doesn’t tear his eyes away, however, and watches as Laurens reluctantly pulls away to reach into the satchel.

“I have something for you, actually,” Laurens says as he digs into the bag.

Young Hamilton lifts a curious brow and smirks. “Oh?” He replies cheekily, clasping his hands behind his back and leaning over to get a better look at the contents of the bag.

Laurens playfully shoves young Hamilton away before pulling something out. He turns around, hiding the object behind his back with a lopsided grin. “I must admit that I had no idea what to get for you, but when August came around I had wanted to gift you something and well—” his pink cheeks seem to darken a few shades and he ducks his head away bashfully. “I had thought of you when I saw it — as it had been one year since we had met that day and I…” Laurens trails off and lifts the object in offering to young Hamilton. The young man gasps quietly and carefully takes the book in his hands, examining it with great care.

“Gulliver's Travels?” Hamilton asks, looking up into Laurens’ eyes.

“If you do not enjoy it I may return it,” Laurens replies hurriedly.

“No!” Young Hamilton holds the book to his chest and his smile melts into pure affection. “I love it!” He looks down at the book and opens it, closes it, and twirls it as he chews the dead skin from his bottom lip. His eyes flicker up, his head still ducked downwards as he adds, “I love _you….”_

Laurens’ composure melts as he smiles, gently cupping his hand on the young Hamilton’s jaw and slowly leans down. Lin blinks rapidly and gulps as the two men ease into a delicate kiss; Laurens’ hand pushing behind Hamilton’s neck and Hamilton wrapping his arms around Laurens to pull him closer. They tilt their heads to deepen the kiss, their motions developing into something more eager and passionate.

 ** _THUMP!_** Anthony abruptly slips from his position, causing the two young men to leap apart from each other as if they had been burned.

Lin’s heart pounds like a drum as he practically shoves himself against Hamilton — all six of them squeezed together and holding their breaths in fear of getting caught. He has zero time to process anything he saw as his heartbeat seems to be the only thing he can hear anymore.

Laurens and young Hamilton are quiet, as are the time travelling gang — _not a single peep from anyone_. Then a horse in the stables to Lin’s left stomps and huffs and the two men in the barn sigh dramatically.

“Aye, caught by a horse in a stable,” young Hamilton barks out rather hysterically as he chuckles.

“This is not amusing, Alexander,” Laurens grumbles bitterly in response, sounding breathless.

“Ah, come now, my dear Jack! You must admit it is quite humorous that we were startled by a _horse_ of all things,” young Hamilton replies cheekily. Lin wants to be consumed by the earth beneath his trembling body — _is he trembling from the cold or the adrenaline?_

“This is no laughing matter, Alexander,” Laurens replies sharply. “If I had endangered you upon my arrival I would never forgive myself—mmmmff—” Laurens seems to be cut off mid-sentence and Lin is ninety-seven-percent sure it is because they are kissing again. Lin closes his eyes and patiently waits for the _sweet release of death._

The two men gasp, breathing heavily after far too long of a time for Lin’s comfort and sanity. He _really_ wants to go home. “Alex—”

“Shh, Jack,” young Hamilton whispers. “All is well. We’ve only horses as our witnesses.”

Lin painfully resists the urge to snort. He resolutely keeps his eyes closed to remain focused on staying absolutely silent. “We must return to headquarters,” Laurens whispers. “Apparently you are not the only one who misses my presence.”

“It is not fair! I want more time with you _alone_ ,” young Hamilton whines, most likely pouting. Lin shakes his head at the image in his head, trying to keep his composure calm and collected.

“Soon,” Laurens whispers, his voice dropping at least two octaves. _‘Lord have mercy on my soul,’_ Lin silently thinks as he keeps still. _‘Please for the love of all that is mighty — leave!’_

“For now, we must continue with our duty to our country,” Laurens says resolutely.

“Do you ever think of running away?” Young Hamilton mutters suddenly. Lin’s eyes snap open and he glances at his friends. They all look ghostly pale — minus Hamilton who is about the same shade of beet juice at this point.

“Running away?” Laurens whispers. It sounds like he may be tugging on something and curses. He hears loops and belts fall loose. “Aye, thank you. Tilghman left me to detach this blasted satchel on my own.”

“I did not release your satchel for you to change the subject,” young Hamilton says. “What if we left all of this behind? Went our own way — just you and I?”

Laurens sighs. “You have a bright future ahead of you, Alexander. I refuse to endanger such a path for you with my...darkness…”

“Oh, enough of that,” young Hamilton replies with a huff. “All I need is _you,_ my dear. _You_ are my future.”

“The world does not function in such a manner,” Laurens snaps. “ Two men cannot—” Laurens pauses, sighs. _“I_ am _not_ enough for you.”

“Stop speaking for my own heart,” young Hamilton replies fiercely. “I am not an invalid — I know where my affections lie. I _know_ what I want.”

“And I beg to not hear of you saying such things!” Laurens barks furiously. “This war — damnation, this _country_ needs your brilliant mind, Alexander.” He exhales deeply and lowers his voice. “All I desire is to see you thrive. Never give up on your ambition, Alexander. That passion you have inside of you is why I fell in love with you, my dear boy.”

Lin glances at Hamilton and sees tears welling up in his eyes. He swiftly swipes them away with his thumb, his steely gaze set on a piece of plywood across from them and his jaw nearly cracking from how tense it is.

“John,” young Hamilton whispers so quietly, Lin almost didn’t hear it.

“As I said, we must return. We will be missed,” Laurens states, his tonal shift giving Lin whiplash. Lin listens to the crunching of their boots as they trudge out of the barn.

“Thank you, by the way,” young Hamilton says, his voice more distant as they near the exit.

“For what?” Laurens asks, aghast.

“For the gift,” young Hamilton replies. “And for returning to me — alive and well… Happy anniversary, my dear Jack.”

There is silence for a few seconds before Laurens’ reply. “Happy anniversary, my love.”

Lin listens as they walk a few more steps before sliding the barn doors closed upon their retreat. He hears muffled voices outside slowly dissipating and he finally relaxes once he feels they are truly alone.

Lin looks over at Hamilton and the man instantly stands up, grunting like an old man with cracking bones and brushing the dirt and hay from his pants. “We must work quickly. I propose we devise a plan to steal clothes to disguise ourselves,” Hamilton explains swiftly, already high energy.

“Can you, like, give us a minute?” Lin replies hazily.

“There is no minute to waste in war, Lin,” Hamilton flares. Lin snaps his mouth shut. “I followed everything you instructed when I was in your time,” Hamilton states firmly. “Now it is your turn to do as _I_ say. This is _my_ time period. My world is different from yours. You all stand out like a bruised eye.”

“Okay, okay, that’s fair — but are _you_ okay?” Anthony says calmly. “I know you—”

“We’ve no time for this nonsense, Anthony,” Hamilton says quickly. Too fast; he is going far too fast for anyone to follow him.

“Slow down, Hamilton,” Pippa whispers gently. “I agree, we need to plan something but we can’t go a million miles a second.”

“Where would we even get clothes for a disguise?” Daveed asks, frustrated. “Didn’t you guys have scarce resources during this war? I highly doubt there are any extra clothes lying around we can steal.”

Hamilton’s eyes light up and the corner of his lips curl upwards. “As an aide-de-camp to General Washington, I had to be well informed on all of our supplies. How many we had and where they were kept,” Hamilton elucidates slowly. “I know exactly where to retrieve disguises for all of us.”

“Great, let’s do that then,” Anthony stands up, but Hamilton puts a firm hand on his shoulder. “You, Pippa and Daveed should remain here. Lin, Jon, and I can retrieve the clothes and any other supplies we may need then promptly return to you.”

“Why do they get to go and not us?” Daveed asks with a sneer. “Is it because of how we look?”

Hamilton furrows his brows at him. “Enough. I am not obtuse, I am quite aware of what you are attempting here, pinning me as the evil one — but you simply cannot come. You three stand out more than they do,” Hamilton snaps, leaving them all in silence. “Welcome to the eighteenth-century, Daveed. Women are only useful for childbearing—” Pippa’s eyes widen “—and men with darker skin such as yourself and Anthony are only worth the labour you may provide to a master.”

“Shit, he actually said it,” Jon bursts out nervously. “That was...fucked up.”

“It is the truth of my world,” Hamilton replies harshly.

Everyone is silent.

Hamilton sighs defeatedly, looking over at Anthony, Pippa, and Daveed with tired eyes. “One thing I had to learn at a very young age is that you must do whatever it takes to fit in to become successful. Please forgive my outburst.” Hamilton looks at Lin. “You and Jon will not stand out to the crowds as your skin is far paler—” he turns to Pippa “—and without a disguise, m’dear, you will attract those men as if they be a group of hungry savages. They become desperate during a time like this and your beauty will cause you nothing but pain and unwanted attention.”

Pippa nervously curls in on herself, tugging the overcoat tighter around her frame, and nods. “No...you’re...you’re totally right… We stand out and you guys are trying to be stealthy to get clothes...”

“We will retrieve as many supplies as we can carry and hopefully slink our way out of this camp unnoticed,” Hamilton announces.

“Wait, we’re not staying here?” Lin asks, blinking vacantly.

“Gods, no!” Hamilton replies, aghast. “In case you have not realized, there is a younger version of myself here! _None_ of us are safe here — especially since it be the heart of the war and we are inside _Washington’s_ camp!”

Lin nods understandably, his lips twisting. “Are you sure I won’t stand out too much?”

Hamilton looks him up and down and then shakes his head. “Your skin be pale enough that even _I_ had not realized you were not a white man until far later.”

“This is really fucked up,” Anthony whispers.

“I am truly sorry,” Hamilton says, ducking his head. “You are very kind people and...my beliefs are not in line with the general public of my time…” Hamilton smiles at Lin. “It seems I am far more well-liked in your time than my own.”

“Guess you could say you were born in the wrong generation,” Lin replies with a chuckle.

“No.” Hamilton shakes his head. “I was born at precisely the right time.” Lin tilts his head. “It is clear to me that I must fight harder for what is right for our country,” Hamilton adds earnestly. “If not me, then who else? Perhaps I was given this gift to do right. Perhaps it is not damnation, but rather a redemption…”

“But you can’t change the past,” Anthony whispers.

“The universe has yet to explode,” Hamilton replies, earning a few shocked chuckles from the group. Lin smiles widely at Hamilton’s reference. “When we make our leave, you three will hide here. Keep yourselves warm and hidden.”

“What about your powers?” Jon asks, causing Hamilton to pause. “Can’t you just get us out of here now?”

“I cannot summon it at the moment…” Hamilton mutters.

“I’m sorry, what?” Daveed steps closer, folding his arms over his chest and shivering subconsciously. “What do you mean you _can’t_ summon it? You were in like, a constant state of glowing back at the government base."

Hamilton sighs. “I feel...drained. I will require more time to figure it out. Until then, we need to survive.”

“That’s really great,” Daveed grumbles dramatically. “Really fuckin’ convenient for the superpowers to just _stop_ when we need them most.”

“Relax,” Lin consoles cautiously. “We’ll figure this out.”

“Should we go now?” Jon asks carefully.

Hamilton squints around the barn. “I’ve no clue what hour it may be, but we best wait until nightfall.”

“Okay, cool, so you’re not just running out now?” Anthony clarifies, to which Hamilton nods resolutely. “Great, then you wanna explain what the fuck we just witnessed while we wait for nighttime?”

 _And there it is._ Hamilton pales and then immediately flushes. “No,” He says firmly, marching to sit by the bushels of hay. Lin feels his energy sinking at the sight of Hamilton. His agitation and stubbornness as he flops on the wooden floor instills an icy sensation inside of Lin — that isn’t related to the bitterly cold weather. Lin shivers at the thought, watching his foggy breath puff out as he breathes.

“Hey, man, it’s alright,” Jon says gingerly, sitting beside Hamilton with a gentle smile. Hamilton jerkily shakes his head once and pauses, staring at the ground as if it offended him. Jon pats his shoulder and Hamilton shuffles away.

“Yo, did anyone ever mention we have a black president in twenty-sixteen?” Anthony says, causing everyone to snap their heads at him in shock.

“You...have not,” Hamilton replies slowly.

“Well, we’ve got one and his name’s Barack Obama,” Anthony replies with a grin. He flops on the floor in front of Hamilton. The rest of the group joins in the circle on the barn floor, keeping close for warmth. “He’s about to finish the final year of his second term and we currently have a dick-ass white dude running against a woman for the next spot,” Anthony explains with a shrug. “I’m kinda hoping we can have our first female president next year.” Hamilton blinks, his eyes owlish and his lips set into a firm line.

“A little fun fact about President Obama is that he legalized gay marriage in every state,” Anthony adds nonchalantly. Lin nearly chokes on the air he breathes as Anthony drops this information upon Hamilton.

Hamilton’s eyebrows furrow. “Gay...marriage?” He says it sluggishly as if testing the vowel sounds on his tongue for the first time.

“Yeah, gay marriage...as in, two men can legally get married…” Anthony replies patiently.

Hamilton stands up. “I have changed my mind, we should leave now.”

“No! It’s not safe and you know it!” Pippa nearly shouts as she stands up, grabbing Hamilton’s wrist and stopping him from leaving. She lowers her voice. “Please, Hamilton...We’re just trying to help you understand.”

“Understand what, exactly?” Hamilton snaps, pulling his hand from her grasp. The others stand up carefully. “What you witnessed was…” Hamilton deflates and rubs his forehead. “It is my deepest regret that you had witnessed such a horrific scene…”

“Uh, that was _not_ horrific?” Jon replies offendedly. “I thought it was sweet.”

Hamilton makes a strange face, his features paling as if he is nauseous. “I do not wish to discuss this…”

“So you had romantic feelings for John Laurens? Who cares?” Jon says, folding his arms over his chest with a raised brow.

Hamilton steps forward and Lin blocks his path, taking the blow he had foreseen coming Jon’s way. Hamilton flinches after punching Lin, who rubs his face tenderly with a groan. “Lin, I...I did not intend—”

“You intended to punch Jon and I wasn’t having that,” Lin seethes in response, glaring at Hamilton furiously. “We don’t care you and John Laurens were a thing, so get over yourself.”

Hamilton blinks owlishly before squinting with rage. “You forget yourself, sir.”

“Yeah, I’m starting to think I am,” Lin snaps, stepping into Hamilton’s space. “You know, those people were gonna let us go as long as we signed a contract. Because of you and your shitty superpowers, I am now two centuries away from my family and I don’t know what will happen to them if we return. Helping you was a fucking mistake.”

“Woah, where the hell did that come from!?” Anthony says, baffled.

“My patience for you and your closed-off emotions have run so fucking thin that I’m about ready to kill you myself,” Lin growls, ignoring Anthony entirely. “You have no right to attack my friends — we gave everything up for you, you piece of shit!”

Hamilton blinks once, twice, and then turns around. He slowly sits on the floor again and stares vacantly at the far wall. “I am...sorry.”

“Not good enough,” Lin grumbles. Daveed whistles, clearly resisting the urge to hold back a smile.

Hamilton’s eyes begin to water and he abruptly shudders, ripping his glasses from his face and tossing them on the floor before covering his face with his hands. Lin deflates and cautiously sits beside Hamilton — being careful to not sit on his glasses — as the man openly sobs into his hands. He puts a hand on his shoulder and Hamilton leans into his gentle touch, sniffling and wiping at his face. Lin frustratingly wipes away tears that have escaped and sighs resolutely, finally feeling all of the anger simmering down.

“Sodomy is a crime where I am from,” Hamilton whispers softly. Lin perks his head up at this, carefully looking at Hamilton’s face as he regains his composure. “Laurens was...my _everything…”_ Hamilton whispers, sniffling and looking into Lin’s eyes. “What you had witnessed was...entirely illegal. You understand that when we were almost caught, those two young men were more terrified at the prospect of getting caught than all of us combined.” Hamilton's eyes squint with fury. “At that moment, we were only startled — they feared for their _lives.”_

“I didn’t think—”

“No, you did _not_ think!” Hamilton hisses. “You have no right to know where my heart lies. I did not ask for your help — you had offered it — and I am deeply regretful for putting you, your friends, and your family in danger,” Hamilton adds sharply. “I had tried to do right by you and I have failed yet again!”

Nobody speaks for a long time until Daveed clears his throat. “What about _your_ wife. No offence, but where does she lie in all of this?”

“Believe me, I love my wife with all my heart and miss her so much it physically pains me.” Hamilton leans back, his head bumping against the wooden post he’s leaning against. “But she was not my first love…”

Lin stays silent. He looks over at the others who have sat down nearby, all of them looking forlorn. Hamilton wipes his face with his palm, sniffling again. “Hearing his voice again...After all that time… I am so truly sorry if I had offended you. I am not one to speak on such matters and all you have attempted to do was help me through my pain.”

“You’re allowed to be upset, Alexander,” Lin replies earnestly. “And you’re also allowed to not share the details of your pain with us,” he adds solemnly. Hamilton’s breath hitches and he ducks his head away shamefully. “Losing a loved one is the worst feeling and you are allowed to grieve his death — just, like, don’t punch people. That’s _not_ healthy.” Lin rubs his sore face as he says this, knowing for sure it will bruise as he has been hit by Hamilton _twice_ now.

Hamilton releases a surprised chuckle and shakes his head, looking at Lin. “You are correct, and I am truly sorry for how I had acted…”

“I forgive you,” Jon says, causing Lin and Hamilton to snap their heads at him in surprise. “For trying to punch me, I mean,” Jon clarifies with a shrug. “I get it. You were just scared we were going to condemn you — but we’re telling you that we won’t. In our time, sodomy is _not_ a crime — it doesn’t exist. What we witnessed were two people who are in love finally being reunited again.”

Hamilton’s eyes begin filling with tears again at Jon’s statement, but they do not spill. He jerkily nods his head and says nothing. He wipes his face one last time before putting his glasses back on. “Right, well, that is quite enough of that. I do wish to know more about your President, however. How is congress in the future? I do hope improvements have been made?” Lin frowns at Hamilton suddenly steering the subject of the conversation. Progress has been made which is... _something...but still._

“Oh god, who’s gonna tell him,” Daveed mutters with his lips pulled into a thin line.

“Tell me what?” Hamilton says slowly, his tone laced with suspicion.

“Well, uh, for starters, your Federalist Party kinda...wiped out a long time ago,” Pippa says carefully. “The two main parties are Democrats and Republicans…”

Hamilton jerks his head in Pippa’s direction, his lips tugging into a frown. “You...kept the party system?”

“Uh, yeah?” Anthony replies with a shrug.

“Fucking Jefferson…” Hamilton growls under his breath. “I am going to assume you have separate state laws?”

“Yeah,” Pippa replies. “There is a federal law, of course, but...well, you know.”

Hamilton groans in frustration. “Have you attempted _any_ change at all?”

“Uh, well gay marriage was legalized last year in every state,” Jon says with a crooked frown. “Last year meaning two-thousand-and-fifteen.”

Hamilton lifts a curious brow, his frown deepening. “What of the amendments? Have they been improved?”

“What now? _Improved?”_ Lin asks, baffled.

“Please do not tell me you have been following those amendments to heart for over two centuries,” Hamilton grumbles tiredly. “Le _putain_ manque de progrès …” Hamilton mumbles under his breath. Lin blinks rapidly at the sudden French slipping past Hamilton's tongue. His accent sounded entirely different as he spoke in French; it sounded quite... _Caribbean._ Lin had not realized how well Hamilton was hiding his native accent until hearing his French. “Well, if that be the case, does a man still have the right to own a pistol?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Anthony groans.

Hamilton lifts a curious brow. “Unfortunate? No no, my friend, you are mistaken. Having the right to carry a pistol is part of one’s human right,” Hamilton replies with a frown. “You take a man’s firearms away, you take away his freedom.”

“It’s not really necessary anymore. I mean, they’re not safe,” Lin replies carefully.

“Well, one must obviously not carry a loaded weapon on the streets of course — that is absolutely dangerous — but one should be able to have protection.”

“People prefer to purposely inflict pain on others with weapons,” Jon argues. “With proper gun control, there wouldn’t need to be a reason to own guns for protection if it's harder for people to get a gun.”

Hamilton shakes his head furiously. “You shall never give your government that much power over you — that goes against your rights.”

“Guns have caused more _offensive_ pain rather than _defensive_ protection!” Jon snaps in retaliation.

“Women have equal rights now,” Pippa interjects, clearly trying to change the subject.

“Oh, wonderful. Do women also have the right to bear arms as well?” Hamilton asks eagerly.

“I mean, yeah. A woman can own her own gun, but that wasn't why I brought it up—”

“A woman deserves to have that right just as a man does,” Hamilton cuts her off excitedly. “You should not be fighting for the side of removing such a right. If the government begins to have such control over their people, it is no longer a democracy.”

“And yet you still believe in a centralized government like a Monarchy?” Daveed quips back, lifting a challenging brow. Lin gulps and shuffles away from Hamilton as the man begins to seeth in rage.

“You call me a Monarchist, sir?” Hamilton snaps. “And what could have _possibly_ convinced you I was a Monarchist?”

Daveed shrugs. “ _Are_ you a Monarchist? Or are you just deflecting?”

Hamilton trembles in rage. Lin takes note of the fact that he is not glowing as he typically would when he was angry before. _That is somewhat concerning._ Before, they all wanted the glowing to _stop,_ but now they desperately need the glowing to come back if they wish to return home _. Maybe the way his abilities are controlled is far more complicated than Lin realized._

“I am _not_ a Monarchist! My political beliefs are with the future of America in mind. What I believe would work is a strong central democracy — where all of the colonies are united as one nation with a unanimous federal government,” Hamilton replies with a scowl. “Do not slander my name to my face again.”

Daveed lifts his hands defensively. “Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to offend you.”

“You did,” Hamilton barks back.

“Okay, that’s enough. Let’s _not_ argue about politics with a _two-hundred-year-old_ founding father,” Pippa says sternly, giving everyone a sharp look.

Hamilton harrumphs and folds his arms over his chest like an indignant child. “I am _not_ the age of two-centuries. I am thirty-seven,” he mutters grumpily. Lin almost barks out a laugh at how petty he sounds.

“You know what I mean,” Pippa replies with her lips formed into a hard line, lifting a brow at Hamilton.

“This entire day has given me a fucking headache,” Anthony grumbles tiredly as he leans against the hay pile. Lin could not agree _more_ with that statement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We finally made it. We finally got to see Hamilton and Laurens kiss! (With the gang unwillingly witnessing it and feeling awkward AF.)  
> ~ Bows at my stubbornness to make you all wait for the approx. 70k word count point until you get to actually see Laurens in real-time that isn't in a flashback or dream. That slow burn tag is there for a reason, fam ;P ~
> 
> I was gonna make this one longer but decided against it. Approximately 6k words is...long enough. (They were literally in a barn this whole chapter? I --)  
> Anywho, I am going to attempt to post on Saturdays from now on since giving myself a deadline has worked out these past two weeks. Not making any promises, but...I will try. (This one came a day early!)
> 
> I did so much research for this one. Hamilton was very much pro-gun and he would be very anti-gun control. Some famous Hamilton quotes I found that supports this:  
> ~ “The best we can hope for concerning the people at large is that they be properly armed.”  
> ― _Alexander Hamilton, The Federalist Papers_  
>  ~ “A strong body makes the mind strong... I advise the gun. While this gives moderate exercise to the body, it gives boldness, enterprise, and independence to the mind.”  
> ― _Alexander Hamilton_
> 
> As I said...he really liked guns -shrug-
> 
> And, well, he was kinda misogynistic and he was quite indifferent towards slavery in his later years (most likely due to being a part of congress and needing to keep his position.) He was very vocally against slavery in his younger years with John Laurens, but abolishing slavery was definitely more of John's dream than Alexander's. He never owned any slaves, but he has been a part of slave trading for his father-in-law. He wasn't perfect, but Hamilton's stance on slavery was very unpopular at the time which makes him far more likeable today than any of the other founding fathers, imo.
> 
> Also, I have no idea what the cast of Hamilton's political beliefs are. I just made them opposite to Hamilton's regarding the gun thing because I wanted to write about him arguing in favour of guns because he really liked them.
> 
>  **French Translations:**  
>  Le putain manque de progrès … = The lack of fucking progress…


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends, just a possible **Trigger Warning** for this chapter: 
> 
> There are descriptions of; self-deprecation, depression, and very vague mentions of death. It is not blatantly said but heavily implied — especially during this _particular_ chapter. Tread lightly, _mes chers lecteurs_ (: 
> 
> Oh, and this story is very GAY, and if you somehow made it this far without realizing that, and it is not what you were looking for, you are _not_ obligated to stay and read on. The browser has an X button on it (or a back button). _Please read the tags before clicking onto a fanfiction!_ This has been a PSA. 

Hamilton has dealt with quite a considerable amount of stress in his life but none of those moments compare to how he has felt in the past twenty-four hours, or so. He would rather not do this, he would rather sit in his home with his family and ignore the mere existence of the outside world. _Why does there need to be a world outside of his home, anyway?_ All he would ever need or desire rests within those walls. The warmth of the fireplace, the smiles of his children, the love of his devoted wife who would do _anything_ for him. 

He finds he rather does not deserve Betsey. 

His quivering breath fogs into the inky blackness of nightfall. He curls inwards and feels the brisk air stab into his heart and leave nothing but icy demons reminding him of his worth; or in his particular situation, his _lack_ of worth. 

Lin and Jon follow nearby and they stay low, looking to him as a commander — as someone to aid and respect. _They threw away their lives for him and what does he give in return?_ Hostility, rage, and confusion. 

Hamilton's core hums a hypnotic melody, ticking like a clock until his inevitable demise may take him to the graves of men who do nothing but spill poison upon the world as if they be clumsily tossed over a beautiful parchment of life like black ink. He has stained the page and feels a numbing sensation overwhelm his very soul as they press up against the building, panting defeatedly as if his breaths may redeem the errors of his ways. 

He snaps his head when he feels again; a strong hold upon his shoulder. Lin stares into his eyes with a gaze that seems determined, if not utterly exhausted. He blinks languidly as Lin lifts a curious brow at him. 

"Well?" Lin whispers, his voice barely carrying with the crisp breeze of the winter eve. 

Hamilton unwillingly shivers from the chill. "Jon and I will retrieve the clothing and any other supplies we may need. You are to surveil the area and forewarn us if there be any passerby's," he orders with a gravelly tone. Gravelly like rocks and dirt — where he may be buried one day like every other godforsaken human in this world. "Do you believe you could handle such a task?" He had not intended to make his tone so condescending, but he feels as if he be a floating spectator sinking further into oblivion as he claws and punches at Lin's ego, begging for him to bite back so he may feel _anything_ again. 

"I feel like I can _smell_ your moodiness _seeping_ off of you like the stench of cologne," Lin quips lowly, his eyebrows furrowed as he examines Hamilton with distaste. "Ironically, we actually _don't_ have time for you to be an _asshole_ when we're about to break into a _fucking_ colonial army building to steal uniforms and supplies." 

Hamilton snarls. "I am collected. Perhaps you project your own errors upon me as if I be a marionette to your deity." Hamilton snorts un-amusedly — _nothing_ stirs within his core and he desires to ignite the flame again. He harrumphs, shaking his head and looking over the side of the building. "That is how it be with your play, is it not?" He looks sharply into Lin's black eyes. "I am but a character to mock and assume the identity of, thus erasing everything that had once made that man a person?" 

"Guys, can we _not_ fucking do this here?" Jon hisses, his foggy breath blowing away while a sharp breeze peels at their dried skin. "We follow your plan, get the hell out of here, and _then_ we can go at each other's throats with negative play reviews, hmm?" 

"Sounds good to me," Lin replies with his lips curling downward. 

" _Splendid_. Let us get on with it, then," Hamilton instructs before taking one last glance over the side of the building. He signals his time-travelling companions to follow him with a swift gesture of his hand before sprinting around the corner. 

_Had Hamilton trusted Lin far too quickly? Or is he truly that intolerable?_ Perhaps they are both intolerable. Lin is far too welcoming for his own good — he had led himself to this very demise and seems to blame Hamilton for it. 

And Hamilton, well, blames himself for _everyone's_ demise. He _had_ ruined Lin, Jon, Daveed, Anthony, and Pippa's chances at a normal life. His frown burns into his features as he shoves the laundry into the satchel; he had also ruined his children, his wife, Mrs. Reynolds, and John Laurens. 

Hamilton and Jon switch clothes, shoving their own into one of the satchels. Hamilton dresses himself and then helps Jon as he fumbles. Lin enters the cabin skittishly. “Someone is coming,” Lin whispers harshly. 

Jon wordlessly tosses a uniform to Lin and he nods before switching clothes. Hamilton aids Lin with dressing himself as Jon worriedly paces by the window. They all look each other over, nodding with satisfaction. The clothes do not fit perfectly but tis as close as they can get in this rush. The three of them look like true continental army soldiers. 

Hamilton slings the strap of a satchel over his shoulder and looks towards Jon. They nod and retreat with haste, Lin following close behind and catching the third satchel Jon had packed during Hamilton's daze. He must remain focused but he feels so empty and lost as he sprints through the shadows of the night. 

They take cover behind the final cabin before the barn. It be a long stretch, but Hamilton is sure they can make it in the dark whilst going unnoticed. He steps out into the clearing and freezes at the sound of a familiar voice. 

“Hamilton? What are you doing, sneaking about?” Tilghman boasts as he approaches Hamilton with a grin. 

Hamilton refuses to look at Lin and Jon as they are still hidden. He steps closer to Tilghman to keep him from finding his companions and plasters on a smile. “I could ask you the same, Tench.” Tis quite strange to see a dead man walking around filled with so much life. 

Tench laughs, shaking his head. “Not out for recreation, I’m afraid. I had to make one last round to count the supplies before I go abed.” _Shit._ Those are most likely the supplies they had just stolen. They should have waited until later. The sun had only set near an hour past, now. 

“Oh, no worries. I have done so, myself!” Hamilton lies flawlessly. A pair of women with baskets walk by, trotting towards headquarters and they smile at the two men. Hamilton waves and the ladies giggle, waving back before carrying on their way. 

“You _fiend._ You were _not_ out here only for work, were you?” Tilghman sniggers conspiringly with a wink. 

Hamilton smiles and shrugs. _May as well go along with it._ “You caught me.” 

Tilghman lets out a rough ‘HA’ and Hamilton sends him off, explaining he will return to headquarters soon, as he had ‘other business to attend to’. The taller red-head winks at him before finally leaving — Hamilton lets out a long breath before nonchalantly signalling the men in the shadows to follow him. They sprint to the barn and pant desperately after closing the barn door behind them. 

Anthony’s head slowly pops up from behind the mountain of hay and he sighs with relief. He steps out into the open, shivering with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. “You got the clothes?” 

“Yeah,” Lin replies, tossing his satchel to Anthony. Pippa and Daveed come around into the open as well and they trifle through the uniforms. Pippa changes behind the pile of hay while the men change where they stand as swiftly as possible. Hamilton aids Anthony with his cravat when his frozen fingers fumble with tying the knot. 

“What do we do now? Should we leave while it’s dark?” Pippa asks once they are all dressed in their stolen uniforms. Her hair has been stuffed into a hat and Hamilton admires how well the uniform suits her. 

“We may require food rations and…” Hamilton trails off. “Now that we have our disguises, we can walk freely about the camp without causing suspicion since we will blend in.” 

“Even me and Ant?” Daveed asks with a violent shiver. 

“Aye,” Hamilton replies, nodding. “You must follow my lead. Stay nearby.” 

“Wait, we’re all going. Like, now?” Jon says quickly as they all stumble into an unsteady stride behind Hamilton. 

“As I said, we blend in now. Just keep your mouths shut and follow my lead. Understood?” Hamilton orders and they all nod feebly. He nods curtly and leads them out of the barn. Hamilton walks with his arms behind his back and his back straightened to make himself taller. He walks with purpose towards headquarters as his entourage follows closely behind him. Other nearby soldiers salute Hamilton as they recognize him, and he nods in acknowledgment to them without hesitating in his step. 

They approach headquarters — the home belonging to John Wallace — and Hamilton leads them to the back entrance. “Pippa and Jon, go into the kitchen and retrieve a canteen and bread for us. The kitchen ladies should be abed right now.” They nod slowly and sneak into the detached kitchen. “The rest of you wait here. Stay hidden. Oh, and Lin—” The two make direct eye contact “—I need you to enter through the front door and keep me occupied.” 

“I’m sorry, what?” Lin stutters awkwardly. “Keep you... _what now?”_

“Yes, me — as in the Hamilton currently working in that office,” Hamilton replies cooly, pointing at his younger self through the window. “Get him out of that office and distract him. I may only require five minutes.” 

“What the hell are you planning to do?” Anthony whispers sharply. 

“Will you trust me and do as I say?” Hamilton replies with furrowed brows. He turns to Lin. “Five minutes is all I require, Lin.” 

“What the hell do I say to get him out of there?” Lin replies sheepishly. “No offence, but this is _you_ we’re talking about.” Daveed and Anthony resist the laughter attempting to burst from the seams. 

“I am certain you will think of something creative.” Hamilton folds his arms over his chest. “You are a writer. You can figure it out. Now go.” 

Lin groans in defeat and stares at the young Hamilton through the window. His features are firmly set before he nods resolutely and marches around the home. Hamilton nods to Anthony and Daveed. “When Pippa and Jon return from their task and something arises, requiring a hiding place, take them to the edge of woods over there. Wait for us behind the trees.” Daveed and Anthony nod slowly. 

“I still don’t understand why we can’t just leave. Why do all of this?” Anthony whispers. 

“If we have a letter on our persons from Washington, we could gain access to weaponry, supplies, and travel with ease on the guise that we are on a mission for Washington under my command,” Hamilton explains carefully. “It will keep us safe out there. No blue coats will harm us. We will have to keep an eye out for red coats — mainly Queen’s Rangers. Those bastards are ruthless and honestly my prioritized concern — hence the letter from Washington to gain access to weapons for protection before we make our leave.” 

“How are you gonna get permission from Washington?” Daveed asks incredulously. 

Hamilton smirks. “I had written his correspondence for years as his aide-de-camp. Do you believe _he_ was the one who had written and signed every letter to congress?” Hamilton taps his chest firmly. “I can write us the letter but I need access to a quill, parchment, and ink — and _he—”_ Hamilton points at his younger self through the window “—is in my way. We cannot risk _him_ seeing _me.”_

“Hence the distraction,” Anthony says brightly, smiling as the puzzle pieces visibly click together in his brain. 

Hamilton smiles and nods. “Now you understand?” 

“You’re...incredibly smart and resourceful,” Daveed mumbles with an impressed grin. 

“Now, remember what I said. I should not take more than five minutes,” Hamilton whispers, ignoring Daveed’s peculiar compliment. The two men nod and Hamilton peeks through the window one last time before making his way to the back entrance of the house that leads to the detached kitchen. 

Hamilton closes the door carefully and makes direct eye contact with Lin who has just entered the front door at the other end of the hall. Hamilton pulls his lips into a thin line and nods once to Lin as encouragement. Lin sighs and shakes his hands and cracks his neck before walking briskly into the parlour-turned-office. 

“Colonel-Hamilton! Thank God you’re here!” Lin bursts out dramatically. Hamilton resists the urge to laugh at his theatrical performance. 

“What is it? Who are you?” The young Hamilton asks firmly. Hamilton peeks his head through the back entrance to the parlour and watches the scene unfold. He tries to not internally freak out at the mere sight of his younger self staring at Lin with an alarmed look on his face. 

“I am Officer Miranda,” Lin replies, out of breath. “Sir, I was told to find you immediately!” 

Younger Hamilton stands up slowly, placing his quill down and lifting a curious brow. “What is the matter, Officer?” 

“The, uh—” Lin snaps his mouth shut and blinks at the sound of the stairs creaking behind him. 

“What is this commotion about?” General George Washington grumbles as he makes his way onto the lower level of the home. Lin turns around, his face as pale as snow as his gaze is locked onto Washington. He tilts his head up as the tall General steps in front of him and Hamilton bites his inner cheek to resist making a sound. 

“I, uhh, was instructed to retrieve Colonel Hamilton, s-sir…” Lin replies meekly, gulping painfully as Washington’s steely gaze refuses to look away from Lin. 

“Well, then you’d better be off then,” Washington says slowly, shifting his gaze over Lin’s head to look at the young Hamilton. Younger Hamilton salutes and Lin follows suit, saluting with the wrong arm. Hamilton tries to not rub his face tiredly at the sight of Lin fumbling around. 

Washington turns down the hallway and Hamilton shifts into the parlour entirely as the younger Hamilton and Lin leave out the front door. Hamilton makes eye contact with Anthony and Daveed outside the window and exasperatingly waves them off as Washington walks towards the back door. They take notice and run towards the trees. 

Hamilton turns around and shuffles through the messy pile of his younger self’s correspondence to find a blank sheet of paper. He growls under his breath as he riffles through the pages and startles painfully at the sound of gentle knocking on the wood behind him. 

“You are always the last to leave the office, Hamilton.” The voice speaking so brightly behind him sends chills down Hamilton’s spine. He stares at the desk, gripping the papers tightly and refusing to turn around. 

“Yes...I’ve too much work to do,” Hamilton replies in a low, gravelly voice. “You should retire. You have only returned today from quite a long journey…” 

“Aye, I have,” Laurens replies casually. Hamilton can hear the floorboards creaking as the man enters the office. Hamilton’s grip on the papers tightens to the point of wrinkling the pages as he feels Laurens’ presence looming behind him. “I was hoping to convince you to join me in our bed, my dear boy…” 

Hamilton jumps when Laurens places his hand on top of his, causing him to drop the papers all over the floor. He stares at Laurens as he bends over and picks up the papers apologetically, his lips twisted into a concerned frown. “I did not intend to startle you, my—” 

“—Don’t!” Hamilton says sharply, cutting Laurens off. “Washington had walked by moments ago. He is not upstairs,” Hamilton says quickly, grasping for any excuse to keep Laurens away from him. Something about this feels vaguely familiar, yet entirely wrong. As if he be watching a play and seeing the characters go off-script. 

“Oh, I see,” Laurens whispers as he places the papers down on the table. He takes an entire step back and a selfish part of Hamilton wishes he didn’t. 

“I only require a blank sheet of paper to write one last piece of correspondence,” Hamilton murmurs. The back door opens and closes and they hear the General march towards the staircase, holding a mug of what appears to be tea. He nods to Laurens and Hamilton briefly and climbs the staircase without uttering a single word. He pauses at the top and leans down to frown at Hamilton. 

“What did that officer need, Hamilton?” Washington asks gruffly. 

“Oh, t’was nothing of import. A misunderstanding,” Hamilton replies with a wave of his hand. Washington hums and then proceeds to climb the steps tiredly. 

Once Washinton is out of sight and his door closes upstairs, Laurens turns to face Hamilton. “Officer?” 

“Oh yes, a young officer came by. Nothing to worry about,” Hamilton replies off-handedly as he sorts through the papers to keep his hands busy. His younger self is going to have a fit over his blind reorganization. 

Laurens sighs and pulls out a paper from a pile near him. “Here, you may use this if you must. The page is blank.” 

“Aye. Thank you,” Hamilton replies, taking the parchment and sitting down in the nearest seat. He steals the quill and ink sitting nearby and begins writing hastily. 

Laurens looks over his shoulder at the empty hallway and then back at Hamilton. Hamilton is grateful that there only be two candles lit within the room, hoping Laurens has yet to notice Hamilton's age difference due to the low light. He glances up and notices Laurens frowning at the page; Hamilton tries to hide it from his sight nervously. 

“What is this?” Laurens asks with his arms crossed over his chest. “You’re leaving?” 

Hamilton wishes to disappear instantly. “I — no it is — not for long,” Hamilton stammers as he finishes crossing his -t’s- and dotting his -i’s-. _Why is Laurens here?_ Hamilton feels like there be a true reason Laurens had come here to speak to Hamilton besides attempting to get him to stop working but he cannot quite wrap his finger on it. _What else had happened around this time besides Hamilton receiving the anniversary gift?_

“I had only returned today and you are already being sent away,” Laurens mutters with a deep-set frown. Hamilton stands up and powders the letter he has written. He feels as if he be spilling ink across the parchment of the universe, halting proper events from occurring with his mere presence 

“I know, I am sorry,” Hamilton replies earnestly. “I swear, I will not be gone long. You will not even notice I left!” 

Laurens’ mouth twists into a deeper frown but he nods. He stares at the floor, his hands tightening into fists as they remain folded over his chest. “I will miss you.” 

Hamilton tries to not burst into tears. He holds Laurens’ hand but then pulls his away as if he has been burned, realizing that what he be doing is _wrong_. This is _not_ his Laurens and he is deceiving this poor man. _His_ Hamilton is on a hunt for a red herring with _'Officer Miranda'_ whilst this _selfishly haggard old_ Hamilton basks in Laurens' presence. He shakes his head as Laurens watches him with baffled features. 

“I...will miss you as well," Hamilton replies gruffly. 

Laurens smiles and steps forward, placing a hand on Hamilton’s cheek. Laurens frowns, ringing his fingers through the curls by Hamilton's ears. "You are going grey," Laurens comments offhandedly as he examines the hair looped around his index finger. 

Hamilton swats his hand away indignantly. "Nonsense. _You_ are going grey!" Hamilton bites back, offended. 

Laurens chuckles and Hamilton's entire body is set ablaze at the beautiful sound of Laurens' laughter. "I only tease you, so. I worry you are overworking yourself, Alexander." 

"I am fine," Hamilton replies breathlessly. He had wanted to be sharp and witty but his shock has finally settled; he is speaking with a dead man who is teasing him over his grey hair. 

Hamilton’s eyes are stuck on Laurens’ and he finds he cannot move an inch as the taller man leans in slowly. He closes his eyes as his heart pounds deeply in his chest. He can _feel_ again — and it is so overwhelming that tears escape whilst Laurens gingerly presses his lips against Hamilton’s. 

Hamilton trembles and whimpers as Laurens pulls away from the brief kiss and he wipes Hamilton’s tears with his thumb. “Did you mean what you said earlier? About running away?” Laurens whispers hoarsely. 

Hamilton automatically nods. “Aye,” Hamilton whispers. “I promise you I meant every word when I spoke them.” 

Laurens frowns. “You say this as if you do not mean them now.” 

Hamilton shakes his head. “If I could I would right now. But I have a duty,” Hamilton replies as he helplessly waves the page in his hand. “And you have yours. When I return — if you are up to it — I still may be willing to run away with you,” Hamilton whispers. “Just not quite yet. Right now I must go.” 

Laurens nods slowly. Hamilton holds Laurens’ hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze. “Think on it. I promise I will return to you. Give me your answer when I come back.” 

Laurens looks away but nods in response. He swallows before looking back at Hamilton. “Alright, Alexander. I will...I will consider it.” 

Hamilton beams and pulls Laurens in the tightest embrace he can manage. Laurens huffs out a surprised chuckle but returns the embrace easily. Hamilton mumbles nonsense into Laurens’ shoulder before pulling away and wiping his escaped tears from his face. 

“I must go now,” Hamilton whispers. “Goodbye. I will miss you, Jack…” 

Laurens smiles and brushes a strand curl behind Hamilton’s ear and his face heats up from the intimate contact. Hamilton reluctantly steps away, closer to the back door and away from his Laurens. He is so young and full of life, smiling longingly at Hamilton as if he may be leaving for a long journey. Hamilton prays he hasn’t made an irreversible mistake just now. 

He slides out the back door and walks mindlessly towards the woods, his eyes glazed over and resisting the urge to turn around — he does not wish to see if Laurens be watching him leave through the window or not. His heartbeat thumps loudly in his chest and he leans on the nearest tree for support as he catches his breath. 

His lungs struggle to take in the crisp winter air as the lump in his chest grows larger. He stands like this for a while — he cannot tell how long — but once he feels a firm and grounding hand gripping his shoulder, he startles out of his trance and stares at the person grounding him back to reality. 

Lin frowns at him with clear worry and Hamilton cannot think to do anything but pull Lin close and clings to him for dear life as he finally cries. He sniffles into his shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut as every feeling that has been absent all day has finally resurfaced at once, overwhelming his senses. 

Lin pats his back and consoles him quietly, unwilling to let Hamilton go until he begins pulling himself from Lin’s arms. 

“What happened in there?” Lin asks softly after Hamilton takes a moment to wipe his tears away. It suddenly dawns upon Hamilton like a strike of lightning — what was _truly_ supposed to occur before he and Lin had interfered. This was the night Laurens had asked Hamilton to be his second in the duel against Charles Lee. Hamilton leans back on the tree, dumbfounded at how much he had unintentionally changed by being there. Laurens had entered the office to tell Hamilton that he had challenged Lee to a duel. Instead, he left Laurens pondering on whether they should _truly_ run away together. _What has he done?_

“John Laurens happened…” Hamilton whispers, trailing his words into oblivion as he finds he be unable to say anything more on the matter. Lin nods, his lips twisting into an unrecognizable expression. 

“Ah, I’m — I’m sorry, Hamilton…” Lin replies in a low voice. “Will you be okay?” 

Hamilton nods once, wiping his face one last time to be sure there are no more tears left staining his cheeks. “I have to be.” Hamilton looks over at Anthony, Daveed, Jon, and Pippa. He does not recall meeting up with all of them, but perhaps he must have whilst in that strange state after meeting with John Laurens again. 

"Where is the other Hamilton?" Hamilton inquires, his face twisting as he refers to himself in the third person. 

"Oh, he's busy dealing with the stolen uniforms," Lin replies cheekily. "We should probably get whatever weapons we can before heading out as soon as possible. You know, before he realizes _we_ were the ones who stole the uniforms?" 

"Right," Hamilton says with a firm nod. "Let us get in with it then. Follow me." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I said Saturday weekly updates? Did I say that? Nope, I don't know her. Whoops? I try my best, okay? 😅 
> 
> Gonna write even more gay™ because a ~ _lovely~_ commenter had said that my story is going down a _'stupid gay route'._ You meant _'stupid'_ as in, Laurens and Hamilton are _idiots in love,_ right? Cause that's what I wrote. Not sorry. 
> 
> Well, because of covid cases getting worse in my province, I have my _already_ cut hours cut even more. _~yay~ (more time to write or more time to drown in self-pity? Keep reading to find out!)_
> 
> In all seriousness, all I can say is that I know for sure I will not finish this story by the end of the year. I highly doubt that I will update again before the New Year, so uh, Happy New Year, _my dear readers_ (: 
> 
> Some recent discoveries regarding Alexander Hamilton enslaving people have led me to take some time to alter my outline a tad. That was partially why this took a hot minute to update (also because my motivation comes and goes like tides in the ocean.) I made a post all about it on Tumblr if you’re interested in learning more: https://peblezq.tumblr.com/post/637958691538206720/re-alexander-hamilton-enslaved-people-historical 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do my eyes deceive me? Did I actually manage to post this exactly a week after the previous chapter? Huh.
> 
> So fun fact, challenging yourself to write one-shots every day actually helps you build up a good writing habit. Who knew? ahaha
> 
> Anywho, this was originally gonna be part of the previous chapter but they were split in half because it was getting to be quite long and I'd rather post each half once per week instead of making you guys wait two+ weeks for just one ~really long~ chapter. So, this is gonna be written from Hamilton's perspective just like the previous chapter. I hope y'all enjoy!
> 
> ~WARNING~  
> This chapter contains scenes with graphic depictions of war violence. Reader discretion is advised!

With weapons and supplies, they make their way into the woods under the guise that they be on a special mission ordered by Washington, himself. Hamilton keeps the paper tucked into the coat pocket — uncertain of whose uniform he had stolen, but tries to not think too deeply on it.

He feels utterly numb again as they distance themselves from camp; tis as if the space between himself and Laurens sucks his life from his body. Hamilton had cried into Lin's shoulder and felt chillingly cold to the core afterwards as if he had drained everything he had left inside of him.

He worries his lip between his teeth, remembering how warm he felt whenever he glowed — as if his burning passion had manifested into a blue flame. Now that he is cold from outside to inside — a shiver encaptures his body at the mention of the weather — he does not know how to reignite that flame that triggered these strange abilities that brought them here.

They trudge on silently and Hamilton is quite grateful that none of his companions are pestering him on his broken composure after seeing Laurens again. He wishes to reignite the flame if only to send them home and let himself freeze to death on this godforsaken forest floor.

The air becomes cooler and crisp to their skin as they continue to walk to god knows where. Hamilton despises the feeling of ineptitude — he only hopes that he can pretend he knows what he be doing, if only for the sake of his group's sanity. Be the commander for them, do not falter. Keep them safe, do not falter. Get them home, _do not falter._

Hamilton stops at the sound of a twig crunching up ahead, concerning him greatly since everyone he be with is behind him. He holds his hand out, silently gesturing them to remain silent and still as he listens.

The wind whistles.

Wolves in the distance howl.

_Rustle. Crunch._

**_Whispering_.**

Hamilton turns sharply to the others, his eyes wide as he carefully gestures with the universal sign of _‘be quiet!’_ They nod slowly and he waves to the trees beside them. They carefully tiptoe behind the trees and Hamilton pulls his pistol out of its holster, filling it carefully without needing to look as he keeps his eyes in front of him.

It is far too dark to see a damn thing, but the darkness may also benefit them as they remain behind the row of trees. Once his pistol be loaded and ready, he winces as he clicks it and prays whoever is nearby did not hear it.

The sounds suddenly halt and Hamilton silently curses himself. Whatever is nearby _heard_ him. He peeks around the tree and feels his bloodstream go cold as he sees the coats of the men on the path. It may be dark, but he knows they are _green_ coats. _Why did it have to be the bloody Queen’s Rangers?_

Hamilton squeezes his left eye shut and aims cautiously. Lin’s eyes widen and he urgently shakes his head, his mouth snapping shut.

Hamilton ignores him and he exhales as he pulls the trigger.

It lights up the area in a flash and the man’s skull squirts blood before he falls limp to the forest floor. Then it be dark and the Rangers holler on high alert.

Hamilton pulls out the knife and walks up to the nearest man, who is aiming his musket in the wrong direction. He slices the man’s throat, his hands suddenly warm as blood pours out like a waterfall. Hamilton holds the man, wipes the blood from his hands on the green coat, and carefully puts him down, his eyes set on his next confused target.

He has fallen into a trance, his mind back in the war as he carefully sneaks up behind the other Ranger and stabs him in the back, directly into his spine. Hamilton covers his mouth as he screams, muffling the sound as he carefully places him onto the dirt.

Then he hears Pippa scream and he snaps out of it, turning sharply and staring, wide-eyed, as she has a knife pressed up against her throat. She trembles and her friends all carefully put their weapons down in surrender as the Rangers surround them.

“Found yeh buggers,” the man holding onto Pippa says gruffly, his tone eerily cheerful. “Why don’cha put that weapon of yers down? Nice and slow…”

Hamilton sluggishly lifts his hands in surrender, unwilling to break eye contact with Pippa. He smiles reassuringly at her as tears stream down her cheeks, her breath hitched under the blood-stained blade of the Queen's Ranger holding her to his chest. His sneer is menacing and his dirt eyes glower as he watches Hamilton drop his blade with his hands in the air.

"Wise choice," the man says in an eerily jolly and polite manner. "We wouldn't want Miss Rebel gettin' hurt, now would we?" The man's Irish accent is thick and gangly as he speaks; he licks his dry lips and pushes the blade closer against her neck, causing her to wince.

"Now, what shall we do with yeh? I am certain we could make some sort of arrangement with each other to keep the peace," the man bargains cryptically.

"Release her. You may do with me what you must, but leave these kind people out of it," Hamilton replies carefully, surprised his voice has not wavered. "I was only offering them a safe passage home. They are not soldiers."

"But they be rebels if they trust a filthy blue coat as ye," the man grumbles in retaliation, lifting a curious brow with a slimy smirk.

Hamilton has no time to think of a response before the man holding Pippa hostage suddenly screams and chokes on his own blood. Pippa is shoved to nature's floor as the man falls over in pain.

John Laurens pulls his sword from the man and swiftly aims his pistol at the Rangers by Daveed and Anthony, shooting the one in the leg whilst the other one aims his pistol at Laurens.

The rest of the fight is a blur; Hamilton picks up his blade and slices it through the man aiming at Laurens — who is slicing his sword into another Ranger charging at him.

Lin tackles the Ranger running after Pippa and stabs the man in the back in his haste to save his friend. Pippa gratefully helps Lin stand up and they scramble away from the centre of the small battlefield. Hamilton barely dodges a bullet and stabs the man who had intended to shoot him. Jon fumbles with the pistol Hamilton had given him earlier, staring wide-eyed at the Ranger charging at him. He hastily throws his loaded pistol at the Ranger and it fires on its own accord, grazing Anthony's arm. He yells and hunches over, ducking behind a tree as he grips his arm in an attempt to stop the blood flow.

The remaining Rangers flee as they realize they be outnumbered and Hamilton allows them to leave so he may tend to Anthony's gunshot wound.

“Ant, I’m so sorry!” Jon cries desperately, grabbing his head in peril.

“Fuck!” Anthony yells, groaning in pain as he presses himself against the tree.

"Let me see to your wound before it gets infected!" Hamilton hollers frustratingly as Anthony whimpers and moans, squirming in his spot.

"What the fuck are you gonna do?” Anthony snaps. “You're not a doctor!" Hamilton pulls the whiskey from one of the satchels and pulls it open with his teeth, spitting out the cork and pouring it onto the wound. Anthony screams and falls to the ground; Hamilton swiftly removes Anthony's jacket.

"Hold still. I need to be sure the bullet is not lodged inside your arm!" Hamilton growls through gritted teeth as he tears open Anthony's sleeve. He sighs with relief as he sees the wound is merely a graze. "Aye, you are lucky, Anthony. We only need to bind it." He pours more whiskey on the wound and Anthony screams, biting his fist and squeezing his eyes shut as a few tears escape.

Daveed crouches by Anthony, already digging through their medical supplies they received when they obtained the weaponry using Hamilton’s false letter from Washington. Hamilton stands up and turns around, stumbling into an abrupt halt at the sight of a sword pointed towards his face.

The forest suddenly feels silent as Hamilton stares into John Laurens' steely gaze, his heart pounding in his chest.

"John," Hamilton says in a low voice. "You saved us."

Laurens' features twist into disdain. "Who are you?"

Hamilton blinks, at a loss for words. "Huh-Hamilton."

"You cannot be, sir, since I had left Hamilton at headquarters near twenty minutes ago," Laurens replies, stepping closer and pressing the tip of his bloody sword to Hamilton's neck.

_Oh, shit._

“He had returned after an officer told him of stolen uniforms,” Laurens continues. “When I asked of him about his secret mission for Washington, he stared at me as if I were insane.” A steady pause. “There was never any secret mission for Washington — I was mistaken, he said.”

Hamilton finally lifts his hands in surrender, silently praying Laurens does not kill him. "I know this must appear to be quite confusing, John—"

"Do _not_ call me that!" Laurens roars, enraged. Hamilton shivers at the sound of Laurens’ furious voice, deep with rage. He aggressively swings his sword at the tree beside Hamilton and swiftly aims it at his chest, causing everyone to flinch with trepidation. "Do _not_ test my patience! I will not ask again — who the _hell_ are you!?"

"Alexander Hamilton," he replies firmly, his eyebrows furrowing. "I can prove it. Ask me something only Hamilton would know."

Laurens is clearly taken aback by this, faltering in his stance and widening his eyes momentarily before reassuming his position. "Do you think this is some foolish game, sir!?" Laurens seethes.

"You are quite literally pointing a fucking sword at my heart, Laurens — believe me, I do not think of this to be some tomfoolery," Hamilton replies cheekily. "I repeat myself in case my words have gone upon deaf ears — ask me something only Hamilton would know."

Laurens stares at him for a long time before lightly pressing the tip of his sword to Hamilton's chest; the red-haired man winces involuntarily at the action. His eyes narrow with suspicion. “You are serious, sir?”

“Deadly,” Hamilton replies with a deep voice.

Laurens considers him for another moment, lifting a curious brow; his lips curl downward into a snarl. "Who is the one man I admire the most?"

Hamilton slowly grins until it nearly splits his face in two. "Aye, trick question my dear. I would think the one man you admire the most is your Uncle James."

Laurens' eyes go painfully wide as he stumbles backwards, lowering his sword as he does so. He sputters and gawks at Hamilton with pure befuddlement. "Huh-How… How did you know such a thing?"

Hamilton's smile melts into one of pure affection as he relaxes his stance. "Because _I am_ Alexander. I am telling the truth."

Laurens shakes his head as if he be a drunkard in a debate. "No...no that is impossible…I just saw him…"

"I am not quite _your_ Hamilton," he admits, trying to console Laurens as he seems to internally question his sanity. "I am not from your time — neither are my companions. We are from the future."

Laurens gapes at Hamilton as if he had spawned three heads. "The... _what!?”_

"Aye, the future..." Hamilton replies casually. "These kind people are from the early twenty-first century and I must help them return to their home," Hamilton adds solemnly. Laurens looks hysterical as his eyes flicker between everyone there. His stoic aggression of a soldier has been utterly wiped away in a rush like a river; he stares in pure bafflement upon everyone like a lost boy.

Lin stares at his bloody hands, muttering to himself in shock. Pippa holds onto Jon; both of them shaking like leaves. Anthony winces in pain and Daveed keeps his hands on Anthony's bloody arm, refusing to let his friend bleed out amidst the chaos.

"I've gone mad," Laurens whispers exasperatingly. He rubs his head and grips his sword tightly.

"You have not gone mad, my dear. Believe me, I have been wondering the same for myself as well." Hamilton shrugs sheepishly. "But it has happened. We are here when we should not be."

Laurens stares at Hamilton for a long time, his eyes squinting in his ponder. "You are...from the future..." He speaks as if this be a statement rather than a question; like he is reafirming this information for himself aloud.

Hamilton nods slowly. He points to his greying hair with his index finger, showing it off. "I am from sixteen years into the future, to be exact. Seventeen-hundred and ninety-four," Hamilton replies casually. "You were never meant to figure it out, but I should not have underestimated you, Jack. You are far too intelligent for your own good."

Laurens shakes his head. "This is impossible…You cannot be…" He trails off his ramblings, staring openly at Hamilton. "Alexander?"

Hamilton nods quickly, smiling at him. "I think a part of you always knew who I was. Why else would you come here?"

Laurens looks around at the others. "Honestly, I had assumed you had poisoned me so you could steal our uniforms and supplies. I was certain I was seeing hallucinations when I realized t’was not Hamilton that I spoke to in that office..."

Hamilton laughs. "That would have made far more sense, would it not?" He shakes his head. "One thing I have learned from travelling through time, my dear, is that absolutely nothing makes a lick of sense."

"I think I will sit down," Laurens comments offhandedly, dropping his sword and staggering to the slanted hill behind him. "Perhaps if I sit down, it will make sense," Laurens mutters to himself calmly.

"I just killed a man," Lin says suddenly, causing the others to revert their attention to him. "I stabbed that guy...right there," Lin mutters carefully, his eyes staring at the dead Ranger with a knife in his spine.

"You saved my life," Pippa replies earnestly. "It was self-defence."

"I am a playwright! _Not_ a murderer!" Lin yells, shaking his hands feebly.

“You’re right. You are _not_ a murderer,” Jon consoles gently. He goes to rest a comforting hand on Lin’s shoulder but he cowers away from Jon, shaking his head.

Hamilton looks over at Laurens who is staring at the ground with wide, vacant eyes. All of this is wrong. _None of them have time for this._ "We should leave, find somewhere safe to camp for the night."

"We wouldn’t need to if your fucking super-glowy-powers just _worked_ like they were supposed to!" Daveed snaps in retaliation as he fumbles with wrapping Anthony's wound.

"Oh, so this be _my_ fault, now?" Hamilton grumbles bitterly.

"Yeah, it's _your_ fault. We were living a normal life before you showed up and ruined it, Mister Alexander-fucking-Hamilton!" Daveed bites back as if his words are akin to bile in his throat.

Laurens stands sharply, grabbing the sword and pointing it at Daveed with a snarl. "Do not speak to him in that manner!"

Daveed stares at the sword with wide, terrified eyes. Hamilton places his hand on the sword with care, shaking his head at Laurens. The man lifts a curious brow at him.

"Lower your sword. He is right," Hamilton whispers calmly. "Tis my fault."

"Yo, you didn't choose this just as much as we didn't," Anthony says cautiously. "If anyone is to blame here, it's the assholes who decided to do that shitty experiment on you. _They_ did this to us. Let's not forget that."

Pippa, Jon, and Daveed nod slowly in agreement. Lin shakes his head. "I still...I still killed that—"

"Lin, this is war," Hamilton cuts him off gingerly. "You were left with no other choice. This is how war looks. It is messy and cruel and filled with bloodshed and regret."

"I hate to be the unaware party here, but what the hell are you on about?" Laurens intercepts with baffling features. "Experiment? Who had done an experiment on you? What has happened? What _is_ happening?"

"If you give us the chance, we can explain everything," Hamilton replies. "But first we must find a safe place to rest for the night. Please."

Laurens stares at Hamilton for a while before nodding slowly. Hamilton feels scrutinized under Laurens’ heavy gaze, as if he is finally noticing every wrinkle that makes Hamilton older. “Aye. Follow me. I had come across an abandoned farm on my way back to headquarters this afternoon. Tis not too far east from here.”

“Where the fuck is east?” Anthony groans as Daveed finishes wrapping his arm carefully. “How would you—ouch!—Know that without a damn compass?”

Laurens frowns before pointing in front of Anthony with his hand. “This way.” Laurens sheathes his sword carefully. “I know because I know the area.”

“Landmarks,” Lin mumbles offhandedly to himself.

“Aye,” Laurens replies with a raised brow. “We should leave now. I must alert Washington of the nearby Rangers as soon as possible.”

Hamilton nods. “Of course. Lead the way.” He bows dramatically, gesturing with his outstretched arm. Laurens smiles briefly before it wipes completely off his face. He nods once, sharply, and starts marching.

* * *

Hamilton is meant to be a wise and matured man by this point in his life, and yet he finds himself staring at Laurens like a helpless boy poisoned with utter infatuation. He watches Laurens be sure to check on the state of everyone, extra cautious with Anthony and his wound, especially; a true southern gentleman. Hamilton's heart melts at the blind kindness of John Laurens towards total strangers from another time.

He offers a rag to Lin so he may wash the blood off his hands, offers his cloak to Pippa but she politely declines. He offers his kind advice to the others, aiding whilst properly looking after Anthony's arm.

And it all comes crashing down when finally Laurens looks at Hamilton for the first time since they had left to find this abandoned barn. His eyes roam Hamilton's entire physique and he tries to not squirm under his heavy gaze.

"Hamilton, might we share a word?" Laurens inquires innocently, but the way his eyes flicker to the others then pointedly to the barn door, Hamilton knows there be more hidden behind his calm demeanour. Laurens clears his throat. "Privately?" He adds pointedly.

"Yes, of course. I have much to share with you—"

"Don't tell him too much," Lin warns him, cutting Hamilton off mid-sentence. "Only explain what's necessary."

Hamilton stares into Lin's eyes and nods firmly. He understands what Lin is telling him without words. _'You mustn't inform him of his own fate. Do not burden him with knowledge.'_

Hamilton gestures vaguely to the barn door with a yerk of his head before turning on his heel and marching out the door. He waits for the door to close before turning around. Laurens keeps his distance, staring silently at Hamilton in the bright moonlight, his expression stoic and stern.

"So…" Laurens begins, trailing off with a confused frown. "The future?"

"Aye," Hamilton replies, shoving his hands into the stolen coat pockets upon his person with an involuntary shiver to the cold. "I am from the future."

"How?" Laurens asks quizzically with a lifted brow, walking over to the nearby oak tree and leaning against it.

Hamilton remains firmly in his spot, not wanting to startle the younger man. _God, referring to Laurens as the younger of them is quite the thought to behold as he is three years his senior!_ "That I am not entirely sure of, myself. All I know is the people who run America in the twenty-first century — where those people in the barn are from — have done some...experiment and pulled me into their world without my consent."

"What of the people in the barn? How are they involved?" Laurens rasps cooly. Hamilton is surprised that Laurens seems rather collected about all of this — or he has a stony front to block his trepidation and befuddlement.

"They were like me — living their lives and dragged into this mess against their will," Hamilton murmurs in response, looking up at the sky. He missed the peace and tranquillity of his own era. The loud and bustling New York of the twenty-first century had left him on edge.

"And how did you find your way here?" Laurens speaks with his arms folded over his chest and a lifted brow, feigning nonchalance. Hamilton can see now that he is only keeping his composure as a soldier would — inside he may be panicked and utterly baffled but unwilling to admit such things.

"That was...my fault," Hamilton whispers, ducking his head bashfully. "Tis my fault why we are trapped here. You see, the experiment...did something to me, Laurens...something I cannot quite explain." Laurens pulls his lips into a strange expression and Hamilton waves defensively. "Not that I do not wish to explain it — but that I truly cannot comprehend what it is exactly that these people have done to me…"

"I see," Laurens says languidly, as if he be stalling to think of a proper response. "Is there anything you are actually _able_ to tell me, then?"

Hamilton laughs incredulously, surprised at Laurens' light tone and playful grin. "Ah...I can open...uh—er...tears in the universe…and I glow like a blue flame when it happens…"

Laurens blinks vacantly, clearly at a loss for words in response to Hamilton's blunt and, quite frankly, _confusing_ statement. "I beg your pardon?"

"As I said, it makes not a lick of sense," Hamilton replies with nervous laughter, scratching the nape of his neck.

"No, it does not," Laurens replies gravely, his features darkening before he schools them in a blink.

Hamilton pouts in concern. "You believe me to be mad."

"No, sir. On the contrary," Laurens quips in reply, looking up into the starry sky. "I believe _myself_ to be the one who is insane."

"You are not insane, Laurens," Hamilton consoles gingerly, taking a careful step forward subconsciously.

Laurens lets out a gratingly harsh laugh laced with sarcasm. "Aye, that be something a delusion would tell me."

Hamilton twists his face as he considers this, then smiles sheepishly, shrugging in defeat. "I suppose I cannot argue there. Is there anything I could do to convince you that this is all reality?"

Laurens stares at Hamilton for a dreadfully long time, unresponsive and pondering. “How does the war end?”

Hamilton blinks in consternation. “You know I cannot tell you that.”

Laurens shrugs. “Why not? No harm in it, really.”

Hamilton exhales slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Trust me when I say this, Laurens — You do not wish to know the outcome of your own future.”

“Do not assume to know me, sir,” Laurens bites back harshly. “I am speaking to an Alexander from the future and somehow I have _yet_ to become an invalid.” Hamilton scoffs, rolling his eyes at the pure ignorance of such a phrase. "Although, forgive me for assuming so, but I feel that the world should come to an end if one travels through time? I mean, how would that _not_ have any serious repercussions?"

Hamilton laughs lightly. "I have wondered the very same thing, but alas, we are unfortunately still here."

Laurens smiles briefly — it be stiff, forced, and fleeting. His eyes remain on Hamilton, his expression neutralized. "Aye. We are still here…" Hamilton stares back at Laurens, feeling scrutiny and a strange heat burning him from the tall young man's crystal-sharp gaze. He seems to have a moment of abrupt clarity. "Christ! I had kissed _you_ in the office. Why would you allow such a thing to happen?"

Hamilton blushes furiously and turns away, feeling put on and naked in this overgrown field, directly in the target of Laurens' perusive gaze. "Aye, and you had initially entered that office to tell me of your idiotically rash decision to challenge Charles Lee to a duel," Hamilton snaps defensively, hoping to steer the subject as far away from their inappropriate intimacies.

Laurens' eyes expand instantaneously. "You have... _how_ did you know—"

"Because it has already happened for me, John. All of this!" Hamilton replies in a flurry of heat, rage, and passion. He feels his heart has been reignited and he is engrossed with resentment. "Damn it all to hell, John. I am from sixteen years into the _bloody_ future. Can you not grasp what that entails? I have lived this godforsaken war to its end and seen its fucking outcome! Surely you are not _quite so_ _dense—"_

Laurens is storming in an instant, stomping the few feet separating themselves from each other. "You call me dense!? You shall bite your tongue, sir!"

"I will not!" Hamilton barks back. "I am drained from your reckless behaviour and have lost all patience to deal with you."

"Oh, I see how it be, then," Laurens replies sharply. "You thought you would have a go with the younger version of me after finishing off with the _older_ Laurens, is that it?" His voice is laced with such venom and... _jealousy?_

Hamilton gawks in utter surprise. _Where is this coming from!?_ "Frankly, John, this argument makes utterly no sense."

"Why _not_ have a nonsensical argument, Alexander?" Laurens says sternly. "This whole situation is nonsense. You expect me to just bend over backwards and accept that you are from the _fucking_ future!?"

"I expect you to _trust_ me," Hamilton retaliates in a low, grumbled tone.

"You say things that no man could possibly understand and then immediately call me dense!?" Laurens seethes, taking half a step back and gesticulating wildly. His reaction seems near-manic.

"I had not acted as you when I stumbled into the twenty-first century," Hamilton brags haughtily. “I was far more collected than you are. You are acting the fool.”

"I had not stumbled into the future. You came into _my_ world and ruined everything!" Laurens fights back. "Why would you kiss me!? What would you have to gain from such a thing?" Laurens snaps, reverting the whole conversation back to the question that had snapped the thick chord between them.

Hamilton has no sense on why he suddenly feels such anger, but all of it bursts through the seams that barely carry his composure any longer. "I had only kissed you to play the part of my younger self," Hamilton blurts out; the moment he confesses this, he feels an icy sensation wash over himself. _‘Not true. Tell him the truth. Do not tell him too much but he deserves the truth.’_ Laurens pauses, his gaze fading from fury to one of pleading puzzlement, silently begging for something more. Hamilton shakes his head. "No…" He whispers reticently. "No, I had kissed you because I was selfish."

"Selfish?" Laurens asks, his voice quiet, his eyes wide with anticipation.

"What? Did you truly believe that after all this time, I would somehow stop loving you?" Hamilton whispers softly, feeling the cool sensation ooze the fury out of his system like an open wound. "You _are_ dense, my dear, if you believe such a thing to be true… God, how you infuriate me, but damn it all to hell, do I love you so."

Laurens stumbles backwards, his mouth agape and silently stunned at this revelation. Laurens jerks his head to both sides, his lips kissing his teeth. "Why not wait to kiss your own Laurens? Why me?"

“No,” Hamilton replies sharply. “Enough. I will say nothing of the future.” He rolls his eyes at the indigent pout from Laurens; he frowns and looks away. "You should just go — return to headquarters and warn Washington of the nearby Queen's Rangers."

"Alexander," Laurens whispers. "What are you withholding from me?"

Hamilton scrunches his face. "Nothing."

"I know you — there is more to this than you are letting on," Laurens replies conspiringly. "Why do I frustrate you?"

"Because you ask so many damn questions that I have no answers for," Hamilton replies shortly. "Return to headquarters — and please just forget this ever happened."

"Now _you_ are the one saying dense things," Laurens mocks with a scoff and folded arms. "I cannot simply forget this."

"You will and you must," Hamilton replies. This argument is the most baffling one he has ever had and wishes for it to end soon so he may ignore its existence. Nothing makes sense and he feels like what they both truly desire to say is not being said at all. He had a far easier time understanding how to ride the goddamned subway train than whatever the hell he and John are bickering about right now.

"You are confused," Hamilton states bluntly. "I am confused," he adds before Laurens could intercept or object. "You have questions — as do I." Hamilton shrugs half-heartedly, looking out into the trees beyond the clearing. "You were not meant to discover any of this, but now you are aware and I cannot take that knowledge from you."

Laurens nods feebly like a small child. "I am sorry."

"No, I am." Hamilton smiles reassuringly. "Go back. We should be gone by morning."

Laurens frowns. "How do you know?"

Hamilton grasps into that feeling in his core, the one that Laurens had reignited in his deep melancholy. He smiles. "I don't."

Laurens nods slowly, carefully. "What happens during the duel with Lee?"

Hamilton blinks quickly, shocked at the question. "It is not my place to say. But I urge you to follow through with your plan and ask _your_ Hamilton to be your second if you plan to go through with the duel. You were meant to do so when I had unintentionally interfered."

Laurens hums but says nothing more. He shuffles awkwardly for a moment, clearly out of his element; Hamilton smiles patiently at him. "Ah, well—um— I suppose this is farewell, old man."

Hamilton gasps in mock offence at the clear jest. "I am only thirty-seven!"

Laurens pulls his lips into a neutral line and blinks a few times. "That is quite a strange thing to hear coming from you, Alexander."

Hamilton rolls his eyes fondly and holds his hand out for a handshake. "Goodbye, Laurens. Thank you for, well… For saving our lives, this evening. I wish I could repay you."

“You owe me nothing, Alexander.” Laurens reluctantly takes his hand and shakes it awkwardly before letting go. "Goodbye, Hamilton…I wish you all good health on your journey..."

Hamilton watches Laurens stiffly turn around. He looks over his shoulder at Hamilton as if to add something more, but seems to decide against it as he trudges his way through the field until disappearing into the forest. Hamilton finally notices his foggy breaths and shivers violently, not having noticed how cold he was until Laurens had left him.

_Fuck!_

Hamilton groans in frustration at missing his opportunity to say what he desired to say. The argument replays in his head, with the favour in his hands as if he answers John flawlessly. He has not had the time to truly consider what Laurens was asking of him; he was begging for reassurance.

_'What happens during the duel with Lee?'_

_'Why did you kiss me?'_

How were they talking and the universe has not, as Lin would say, _self-destructed?_

"Hamilton?" He startles violently at the whisper of his name, his heart thundering in his chest.

He turns and sees Lin peeking out of the barn. He appears to be utterly exhausted. Hamilton can relate to such a feeling. "Yes?"

"Are you alright?" Such a simple question and yet Hamilton can only scoff. Lin shrugs and leans on the decrepit doorframe. "Where is he?"

Hamilton looks out to where Laurens' retreating form had vanished not long ago and he sighs deeply. "Gone."

Lin nods carefully, staring at the dirt beneath his stolen boots. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

Hamilton does not look away from the treeline, squinting cryptically. He hums, the sound vibrating his chest; he says nothing. _What is there to say?_ They are trapped because of _him._ He must truly discover his abilities and bring them home. He is a lawyer, he can work out a deal. _They only want him._

Lin and his friends; they are a means to an end. They can go home; he no longer deserves his home. Hamilton nods deliberately, his mind now set. "I will return you safely to your homes." He looks over at Lin who watches him with wide eyes. "I promise."

"Do I even deserve it after what I did?" Lin croaks quietly, like a small boy.

Hamilton's neutral expression shifts into a frown. "You are a good person, Lin. You look out for other people. What happened tonight was not your fault. Please remember this." Hamilton looks at the moon slowly being covered by an overcast cloud. "If you let this consume you for every moment of your life, you will no longer function."

"Will any of us ever be okay again after this?" Lin asks quietly, seeming to not really be asking — only saying the words to himself.

"It becomes easier to handle over time," Hamilton confesses softly. Lin snaps his head in his direction, watching him intently. "It never leaves you, but it becomes more bearable over time," Hamilton says truthfully. He smiles weakly at Lin and the black-eyed man responds with his own fractured smile. "Perhaps, all we have to do is take it one day at a time."

Lin nods sluggishly. "One day at a time."

Hamilton smiles genuinely now, looking off where Laurens had left. He feels lighter, somehow. He cannot quite place it, but he feels strangely at peace. "I know it may be nothing to hear me of all people say this, but you are a good man, Lin," Hamilton whispers in a gravelly voice. "I truly mean this."

Lin does not reply, but Hamilton does not mind in the slightest. A response is not required for a declaration of truth. The distance no longer leaves him feeling cold and his passion to help the others in the way Laurens had helped them leaves him feeling exhilarated, buzzing with pure _energy._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something I learned while writing the argument for this chapter is that they are really dumb and make absolutely no sense because people rarely say what they really mean - so they come across as an awkward-jumbled mess just kinda yelling things.
> 
> Anywho, uh, I don't have much to say tbh. Usually, I put in a little bibliography for the chapter but I got nothing. This chapter is just John Laurens being confused AF, and Lin having a mental breakdown. ((I will not gloss over that, btw)) I like dark irony; using a dark-humour joke from earlier chapters and bringing them back with a new, darker meaning to them. Hi, I am terrible.
> 
> Have a good one! Idk if I'll be able to post the next chapter in a week. No promises there. But, I can promise that I will be writing one-shots for the rest of the week until January 11th which is Alexander Hamilton's birthday! See you soon~


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaaaack! this one is very short - 3.3k words short, to be exact. Very reminiscent of the length of the early chapters. It just felt natural to end this one where I did.
> 
> This chapter will feel very deja-vu at times since I have decided to rewind a bit to show you the final scene from the previous chapter in a new perspective...
> 
> Roughly 6 chapters to go after this... I am already feeling sad about ending this fic, but all good things must come to an end.
> 
> ((EDIT: I had so many unnecessary struggles trying to upload this chapter. I tried to upload it twice before waiting and uploading it a third time.))
> 
> _May you always!_  
>  _Be Satisfied!_
> 
> _~Rewind~_

### ~FIFTEEN MINUTES AGO~

_What has he done? Oh god, what has he done?_

His hands are still trembling as they approach the ramshackle barn that John Laurens had mentioned and brought them to. Lin cannot fathom that they're walking with _John Laurens._ Lin keeps his hands hastily shoved into his coat pockets and hopes people assume his trembling frame is from the cold and not from the anxiety attack he thinks he may be experiencing.

Lin has murdered a man. He doesn't even know his name or if he has a family waiting for him to return home after the war. _Did he monumentally mess up history by killing a person? Was that person even supposed to die tonight?_

"Wait here as I scope the premises," Laurens orders in a quiet voice, stopping them from getting too close to the barn. Hamilton moves to follow him but halts when Laurens gives him a sharp look.

They wait while Laurens walks around and inside the barn. Lin shivers, curling into himself as he stares vacantly at nothing in particular. He might be watching a tree but his mind is elsewhere, drifting back to the moment when Hamilton gave them their weapons and briefly showed them how to use them as a commander would. He is sucked into that moment he felt the blade enter that Ranger's back, feeling his spine crack as he looks to Pippa to be certain she is okay.

Lin flickers his gaze to her and she catches his eye, giving a weak smile that doesn't reach her eyes. She is consoling him but the emptiness in that expression makes Lin wonder how much his friends must fear him now.

Laurens gives them an all-clear and Lin trembles with firmly folded arms as they enter the barn. Laurens instantly tends to Anthony's wound, delicately fixing the binding with meticulous fingers and a soothing aura. His voice is deep and he seems kind, almost shy, as he speaks with Anthony.

"You must rest well if you wish to remain healthy," Laurens murmurs in a gravelly voice. "If you start to notice any symptoms of fatigue and fever, let your companions know."

"Yeah, alright," Anthony replies feebly.

Laurens turns to Lin and wordlessly hands him a hankercheif. Lin stares at it, confused, but accepts it. He sees the blood on his fingers as he grabs the cloth; he had been activley ignoring it until now. He nods gratefully and wipes his hands, turning away with shame.

Pippa shivers, rubbing her arms tenderly. Laurens unclips his cloak and mutely holds it towards her and she smiles gratefully. "No, thank you," she says with a shake of her head. 

Laurens frowns. "You are shivering, miss." Lin pockets the hankerchief with his eyes on the scene.

"I will be okay. This coat is much warmer than what I came here wearing," Pippa replies with a sheepish smile.

Laurens waves the cloak over his shoulders again with pinched lips and a cocked brow. "Aye, the uniforms you have stolen, correct?"

Everyone flushes and squirms in embarrassment. "Yeah, sorry we had to borrow these," Jon says with his lips pulled into a straight line.

Laurens sighs as he clips the cloak, his eyes flickering to Hamilton. _And god,_ if Lin thought Hamilton was hopelessly devoted, the look on Laurens' face crushes that by a ton, somehow. The look in his eyes is laced with confusion and a strong, misplaced passion. Lin shuffles from one foot to the other, feeling like he can cut the tension between Hamilton and Laurens with a chainsaw.

"Hamilton, might we share a word?" Laurens asks nonchalantly, but the way his eyes flicker to Lin and the others, then pointedly to the barn door, implies he wishes to leave. Laurens clears his throat. "Privately?" He adds pointedly.

"Yes, of course. I have much to share with you—"

"Don't tell him too much," Lin warns him, cutting Hamilton off mid-sentence. "Only explain what's necessary."

Hamilton nods with a firm set to his jaw, his eyes showing understanding. He glances at Laurens briefly as he turns around and exits the barn. Laurens follows him out but hesitates in the doorway, turning to Lin and the others.

"Farewell," Laurens says with a simple nod of his head. The way he stands with his hand resting on the handle of his sword is so casual and yet exuding so much power that it causes Lin to gulp nervously.

"Uh, bye," Lin says with a little awkward wave. "Thanks again for, uh, saving us and everything."

Laurens' lips twist into something unreadable as he nods once more before retreating out the barn door and closing it behind him. Everyone collectively exhales in relief.

"That guy is intense as hell," Daveed says with a strange face. "I thought he was gonna kill me if Hamilton didn't stop him."

"The way he defended Hamilton so blindly was...interesting," Jon says conspiringly, lifting a curious brow.

"He's actually really nice," Anthony adds with a small smile. "I don't know what I was expecting, but I was not expecting him to just help us like that."

"I wonder if he only helped us because we're with Hamilton or out of genuine kindness," Pippa whispers before blowing into her hands and rubbing them together.

"He did save us before he really even knew who Hamilton was," Lin points out with a frown.

"He was pretty ready to murder all of us, starting with Hamilton, instantly after those rangers fled," Jon states with folded arms, huddling closer to Pippa for warmth. "He only chilled out when Hamilton convinced him that he was, well, _Hamilton."_

"Now that's a whole thing I don't wanna unpack," Daveed grumbles as he sits on the ground, leaning against a post with his arms looped over his knees. "Sit down, Anthony. The dude was right about the whole resting thing."

Anthony indignantly rolls his eyes before struggling to lower himself to the barn floor beside Daveed. "I was grazed in the arm. I'll probably be fine."

"We don't have modern medicine available, though, so please just rest," Daveed replies with a crooked frown.

"Yes, you wouldn't want to worsen your state when you are trapped two centuries in the past." A feminine voice from the back of the barn startles all of them. They all huddle closer together, Anthony leaning his weight against Jon who gracefully holds both of them up.

Doctor Lutece emerges from the shadows with her hands clasped behind her back and her posture perfect as she takes each step. "Now that Hamilton is no longer present, I finally have a moment to speak with you five, respectively."

"Fuck off, we want nothing to do with you and your creepy-ass government experiments!" Daveed grumbles with furrowed brows.

"If you give me the chance to speak, Mr. Diggs, you may change your mind," Lutece replies stoically. "I have a proposition for you all and it is in your best interest to consider it."

They all remain quiet, staring her down. Lin narrows his eyes and scowls, wishing to tell her off but knows deep down she has a point. "What do you want?" Lin asks with a lifted brow.

"I came to offer you a deal. One where you will return safely to your regular lives as if this never happened," she replies.

"Why would you and not anyone else come to offer this deal?" Pippa inquires with folded arms. "Also, how did you find us so quickly?"

Lutece rolls her eyes. "Well, they were going to send Agent Arnold and I felt that would have been useless as he seemed to piss all of you off with his threats." They all can't help but nod. "I, unlike them, do not want any harm to come to anyone. I may be an isolated quantum physicist but I also have a heart — you are good people." She paces a bit closer, releasing her hands to put them in her coat pockets. "And regarding the speed in which we found you, it took us about ten hours to find your location, so I wouldn’t exactly call that _quick."_

Anthony furrows his brows in confusion. "I feel like that's how long we were here for. How come it took you the same amount of time to find us? Couldn't you just go to any point in time and approach us after we landed here?”

Lutece sighs tiredly. "You have no idea how time travel works, do you?" They all shake their heads. "It's really quite simple, actually. Time is not linear as we may have predicted. In fact, it is far more...abstract than we had previously realized."

"What does that mean?" Jon asks with a tilted head.

"In the time it took you to get to this barn was the time that also went by in twenty-sixteen. It is synchronized in the universe, like two cars driving beside each other at the same speed on the freeway. Time is constant. The past already happened and cannot be changed. The future simply doesn't exist. We are all constantly in a state of _now,"_ Lutece explains carefully.

Lin feels the dull sensation of a brain freeze engulfing his head. "Okay, I'm gonna pretend that makes sense for a second. What exactly do you want from us? Why wait until Hamilton is pre-occupied to approach us?"

"Because he does not trust us," she responds with a micro shrug. "He does, however, trust _you."_

They all exchange curious glances before looking back at the strange scientist. "He is so determined to return you home that we decided to use this to our advantage. If you can get him to use his abilities again, we will grant you your freedom — with your promise of lifetime discretion, of course."

"You just want us to...do the very thing we were already trying to do?" Daveed grumbles bitterly. "Why not just bring us all back in the stupid machine that you came here through and have him use his powers there in twenty-sixteen?"

"Because he is motivated to save you," she says. "And that motivation is what might help him figure out how to control his gift."

"You want us to what, give him a weird X-Men montage?" Anthony asks with a baffled expression.

"Sure." She exhales deeply. "Will you follow through with your end of the bargain and aid him in his discovery?"

"Wait," Pippa cuts in with a suspicious frown. "What about Hamilton? What will happen to him?"

Lutece pinches her lips but otherwise schools her features to remain stoic. "Mr. Hamilton will no longer be your concern. He will be under our care."

Lin's eyes widen. "Wait, you won't send him home?"

She scoffs incredulously as if Lin has spoken the dumbest thing she has heard. "He is very powerful. We cannot let something like him run loose. The damage he had done to our facility was extraordinary but highly dangerous." She begins to pace again with her arms clasped behind her back. "We realize he was only out of control when that occurred, but if we can discover the core of his abilities, we may be able to tame him."

“Why the hell would you need to tame him?” Anthony asks with furrowed brows.

Lutece huffs, rolling her eyes impatiently. The lack of response dawns an obvious answer.

"You wanna use him as a weapon," Jon breathes out, repulsed. "You want us to tame the beast because he likes us and so you can put a fucking leash on him?"

Lin shakes his head, feeling dizzy and clouded with a wave of disgust. "Nah, I'm with Jon. That's fucked up."

Lutece narrows her eyes, her gaze piercing and calculated. "May I remind you that this deal I am offering you is within your best interests?”

"Yeah, and trapping an innocent man to be your weapon puppet is in yours?" Pippa snaps in retaliation. "No. Absolutely not. Hamilton's life is not worth it. He's a human being. It's _wrong!"_

“You will all return to your normal lives if you do this for us and turn a blind eye. It is _one_ life over all of yours," Lutece replies coldly. "We will take him whether you accept the deal or not. This deal is just for you to have a chance to see your friends and families again. If you do not accept this deal, it is _your_ lives at stake."

Lin blinks slowly, looking over at his friends who gape at Lutece with fearful befuddlement. No one speaks as they watch her. Lin looks over his shoulder at the barn door where Hamilton and Laurens are on the other side, discussing god-knows-what. He considers the past few days carefully, feeling his lips quirk at every moment where Hamilton seemed like nothing but an awe-filled child gazing at the future.

Lin scowls as his insides twist and turn. Pippa is right; Hamilton is still a person — _no matter how annoying he can be at times_. Lin even might consider this strange historical figure a... _friend._

"Have you ever heard of the trolley experiment?" Lutece asks to fill in the nauseating silence. "Where you control a trolley and you notice one person on the track and five people on the secondary track?"

Lin feels exhausted as he looks back at the scientist, his legs feeling like rubber as he struggles to keep his footing. "Who is it going to be that will be sacrificed? You five...or him?"

Lin gazes at his friends and coworkers and wonders how the hell they wound up here. He feels responsible for their life, for the life of his family, for the life of the man he stabbed, and for Hamilton.

Lin returns his gaze to Lutece. "Okay, we’ll do it."

"What?" His friends unanimously exclaim with pure exasperation and shock.

"Lin," Anthony whispers, grunting as he accidentally moves his wounded arm. "What are you doing?"

"I got us into this mess — so I’m gonna get us out of it," Lin replies, keeping his narrow eyes on Lutece. "Promise me you will keep your end of the bargain and you've got yourself a deal.” They all stare at Lin silently for a moment. “From _all_ of us."

"Woah, you can't just speak for—" Pippa closes her mouth when Lin sharply shakes his head at her.

"You have my word," Lutece says with a firm nod. "You will all return to your normal lives if you do this for us. Like it never happened."

Daveed stares at Lin with wide eyes, subtly nudging his head side-to-side. None of them agrees with this; not even Lin. But he nods once, his jaw twitching. "Deal."

She walks over with her hand outstretched and Lin hesitantly raises his hand and grabs hers with an uncertain look in his eyes. "Try to be quick or they will grow impatient with you and cut off the deal," Lutece adds in a low voice, gripping Lin's hand tighter. "Consider this a friendly warning. Good luck." She pulls away and nods to the others. "To all of you." Lutece turns away and retreats out the back exit of the barn with quick feet, appearing like a mouse scurrying away from predators.

Lin silently observes where she had fled for an endless amount of time. He’s dragged back to the present by the sound of Pippa's gentle sobbing. "Pip?" Lin croaks out meekly. "I'm sorry."

"I know." She sniffles, wiping her nose. "You're just looking out for us."

"I feel gross," Daveed mumbles tiredly as he leans against the post and slides down to the floor again. "This feels so... _wrong."_ Anthony mutely sits beside Daveed and rests his head on his shoulder.

Jon turns towards Lin and crosses his arms. "So, what now?"

"We help him figure out his powers, I guess," Lin replies with a gravelly voice. He rubs his face, breathing heavily through his nose as the validity of the situation finally sinks in.

"You should go check on him," Jon says gingerly. "He's been out there with Laurens for a while. Make sure all is well and that... _they didn't hear us."_

Lin nods feebly. "Yeah, okay." He shoves his hands into his pockets and turns away from his visibly torn friends, unable to look at them any longer. Even though they seem to forgive him for making that choice for them, the one person whose forgiveness matters lies beyond the worn wooden doors of this _shitty_ barn.

Lin pulls the door open and stares at the back of Hamilton's head. The man seems to be lost in thought as he gazes into the field with a blank expression on his face. Lin clears his throat but finds it to be useless as Hamilton does not respond. There is no sign of Laurens anywhere.

"Hamilton?" Lin says, causing the man in question to startle violently.

He turns and appears to be worn out. "Yes?"

"Are you alright?" Lin asks softly. Hamilton scoffs and Lin shrugs before leaning on the decrepit door frame. _Dumb question._ "Where is he?"

Hamilton looks out to the field again and sighs deeply. "Gone."

Lin nods carefully, staring at the dirt. He feels terrible for everything that has occurred and hopes to make some form of amendments while he can before Hamilton hates his guts forever. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

Hamilton does not look away from the treeline, squinting cryptically. He hums, the sound vibrating his chest; he says nothing.

 _What is there to say?_ Lin had monumentally fucked everything up. He promised to help this lost man before him and ended up making a deal that will inevitably trap Hamilton forever. He almost wishes he can sabotage this somehow so Hamilton doesn't discover his abilities by bringing them home. Lin promised to help him, but he also has friends and family he needs to consider first _._

Hamilton nods deliberately as if he decided on something he has been pondering. "I will return you safely to your homes." He looks over at Lin who watches him with owlish eyes. "I promise."

Lin feels his throat close up with that festering guilt eating away at his insides. He has not only taken a life — in self-defence but still, has taken a life — but he also basically sold Hamilton's life in exchange for his and his friends. Lin furrows his brows; _he is an asshole._

"Do I even deserve it after what I did?" Lin croaks quietly after a beat.

Hamilton's neutral expression shifts into a frown. "You are a good person, Lin. You look out for other people." Lin's eyes water. "What happened tonight was not your fault. Please remember this." Hamilton watches the moon slowly disappear behind an overcast cloud. "If you let this consume you for every moment of your life, you will no longer function."

Lin considers his words, realizing he must believe Lin is only referring to the man he killed. He _technically_ killed two men tonight since Hamilton will no longer have his life and freewill if they succeed with this mission from the sketchy government lady. _Will he ever get past this?_

"Will any of us ever be okay again after this?" Lin asks quietly, frowning as he discovers he had not intended to say this out loud.

"It becomes easier to handle over time," Hamilton replies softly. Lin snaps his head in his direction, watching him intently. "It never leaves you, but it becomes more bearable over time," Hamilton adds. Hamilton smiles weakly at Lin and he responds with a crooked smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Perhaps, all we have to do is take it one day at a time."

Lin nods sluggishly. "One day at a time."

Hamilton's smile seems genuine as he looks off into the middle distance. Lin feels so much worse now that he has spoken to Hamilton. He made such an irreversibly bad decision and has no idea how to fix this without putting anyone else in danger.

"I know it may be nothing to hear me of all people say this, but you are a good man, Lin," Hamilton whispers in a gravelly voice. "I truly mean this."

Lin does not reply, he can't find any coherent thoughts to cling to. He just stares vacantly at the ground, wishing he will wake up from this nightmare. He feels adrenaline coursing through his veins from a frenzy of pain, guilt, and sorrow. _Does it make him a murderer to kill a man to save a friend? Does it make him a monster to sacrifice an innocent man to save the people he cares about?_

Lin gazes at Hamilton and sees his eyes briefly glowing cerulean blue as he stares out into the field. The glow was only a momentous flicker, like an electric spark in a socket — but it was there, as clear as the singular thought that has invaded the forefront of Lin's mind:

_He fucked up._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have finally gone back to explaining time travel and it _still_ wasn't fully explained since it wouldn't make sense for the characters to entirely know how it works. I am curious to see theories in the comments below based on the information the in-universe characters have deciphered about time travel (: 
> 
> Oh, also, idk if anyone has noticed, but I added a couple of my one-shots into a series with this fic. Why, you ask? Because they are short stories that I feel could take place in the same general fanfic universe as this fic. All the fics I included are moments of Hamilton's life, eventually leading up to his insane time-travelling adventures.
> 
> I also plan on posting a few of my deleted scenes from this fic so keep an eye out for those! 
> 
> Have a good one! See you soon~


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 10.7K words, fam. xD

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Consistency with chapter lengths? Who's she? I don't know her.
> 
> This one was really fun to write for many reasons. I had a few history-related mental breakdowns while writing it. Overall, great experience. Hope you enjoy! *Finger-guns into oblivion*  
> 😎👉👆👉

The ballroom is immeasurably hot and crowded and Hamilton wishes very desperately to leave. It has been so long and lonesome these days. _Three months apart — ninety-one days to be precise, and counting._ Hamilton sighs into his wine glass, sipping it languidly as his eyelids flutter in disinterest. It tastes bitter.

He lowers the glass and puts on a faux smile for the guests swirling around him. Their dancing is dizzying to watch and he has no desire to do so himself. _He_ was there to accompany him for the last ball Hamilton had attended.

Hamilton thinks of the south and longs to be there. He thinks of Washington denying his request to be stationed in South Carolina with _him._ He thinks about that long night with Laurens, the day he had arrived in Morristown.

> _“Hamilton, it has been too long. How do you fare?” Laurens asked with a gentle smile as he placed his free hand on the wooden railing, looking up at Hamilton from the base of the staircase._

Hamilton takes another sip of his wine, attempting to school his features. Officers cleaned up as nicely as they can be in these wretched conditions, dancing lightly with the very small assortment of ladies.

> _Laurens nodded slowly before looking over the railing at the servants walking by on the lower level. “Perhaps I may require your assistance with putting my belongings away,” Laurens whispered as he adjusted the strap of his satchel over his shoulder._
> 
> _Hamilton nodded, his mouth pinched. “Yes. You will be staying in here,” Hamilton said as he glanced down the staircase before briskly entering the larger bed-chamber. He did not turn around when he heard the door latch click behind him. “The dressers have been emptied for the aides to use.” He heard a thump; the satchel landing on the floor somewhere behind him. “You may claim whichever one you desire as you are the first to arrive besides myself…” Hamilton trailed off as he felt Laurens walk up behind him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder._
> 
> _He turned Hamilton around and pushed him into the dresser, swiftly capturing his lips. Hamilton melted in Laurens’ kiss, slipping his hands up his firm arms and resting them on his stubbled jaw._

Hamilton frowns at his emptied glass and retreats from his corner to fetch another. He weaves his way through the crowd, narrowly avoiding people as he shuffles towards the prepared beverages resting on the bar.

> _"You are married…"_
> 
> _"Martha was a mistake…"_

Hamilton trades his empty glass with a full one, immediately taking a sip as his dizzying mind threatens to puncture him with undesirable memories.

> _"I was young, drunk, and foolish to believe she could somehow cure me of my disease…”_
> 
> _Hamilton’s eyes widened as he sharply stepped backward. “A disease? Is that all I am to you?”_

Hamilton shuffles into another corner, smiling placidly at Tench Tilghman who breezes by with a grin. Hamilton's pleasant façade be slipping as he walks by, wishing desperately for fresh air and space away from the crowd.

> _"I will not be your second choice," Hamilton said sharply. "I have you and only you and you expected me to accept that you have a family — a perfect life — just waiting for you outside of the war?"_
> 
> _"I do not have a perfect life waiting for me," Laurens explained with a deeper frown. "I have a façade waiting for me." Laurens stepped closer to Hamilton, causing the shorter man to back into the dresser. "You are all I desire," Laurens added in a deep, gravelly voice._

Hamilton takes another swig from his wine glass, awkwardly bending over as some dribbles down his chin. He wipes his face with his palm and looks down at his cravat, grateful he had not spilled any drink upon the cloth.

> _Laurens looked away, filled with shame. “I did not wish for you to steal my affections,” Laurens mumbled. “You are aware I have begged you to marry on multiple accounts and you have denied it every time. Reconsider — you deserve happiness, Alexander.”_
> 
> _“I will not,” Hamilton growled. “Did it cure you — marrying Martha?”_
> 
> _“God no,” Laurens replied breathlessly, frowning in frustration._
> 
> _“It will be no different for myself then — which means it cannot be cured, my dear.” Hamilton approached Laurens at a measured pace and grabbed the lapels of his coat. “If you were not already wed — and it was legal to do so…” Hamilton bit his bottom lip and looked up at Laurens through his lashes. “I would marry you.”_

Hamilton finally escapes the confines of the estate, breathing the brisk winter air deeply through his nose. He shuffles to the railing, looking out onto the gardens of the property. He places his wine glass on the railing and looks up at the stars longingly. Hamilton wonders if _he_ be watching the same stars on this eve — many miles south of here.

Hamilton loosely leans against the railing, his arms draping over the edge as he basks in the fresh air. The cool breeze is a pleasant contrast from the constricting heat of the party indoors. He thinks on nothing and everything in tandem, a swirling set of thoughts like a hurricane in his mind.

Hamilton has no desire for marriage, yet he cannot stop thinking on it. He loathes the practice of marrying his way into a prosperous family. _Hamilton will make his own legacy, dammit!_ He need not require a wealthy hand to offer him his place he so ardently deserves. Hamilton only has one thing in mind; if he were to marry, he would only do so with someone he loves.

Hamilton vows to never reenact Laurens' mistake — marrying out of pity or honour.

Hamilton ducks his head, his lips twisting into a strange frown. The thought of Laurens and marriage causes his insides to ignite and burn like a large fire. _Why must he be confined to societal norms to create his place in life?_

"Alexander!" A familiar feminine voice rings in his ears from behind, causing an involuntary grin to sweep his features as he twists around.

"My, do my eyes deceive me?" Hamilton laughs brightly, turning around entirely. "Kitty Livingston."

Kitty's smile is wide and full of great enthusiasm as she rushes over to capture him in a quick embrace. Hamilton stands quite stunned at her forwardness but melts into her arms, squeezing her close before letting her go. She pulls away and straightens her dress skittishly, smiling sweetly. "Sorry, I just — wow, look at you. It has been so long! How do you do?"

Hamilton shrugs, leaning against the railing and lifting his wine glass. "I am well. You look beautiful as ever, my dear."

Kitty scoffs playfully, swatting him with her fan before rolling her eyes. "Oh, you shameless flirt. Will you ever stop?"

Hamilton shrugs sheepishly with a wink before taking a sip of his wine. "I will be six-feet-under when I stop being a flirt, Miss Livingston."

"Ha!" She shakes her head fondly. "I suppose I would not wish it to be any other way." Kitty suddenly stiffens as if she had just recalled something urgent. "Oh, my dear Alexander, you _must_ meet my friend. I think you two would get on quite well!"

Hamilton lowers his glass, smiling devilishly. "I only have eyes for you, Kitty."

"Oh, _stop_ that!" Kitty groans rather playfully. "I am quite serious, sir. I truly believe you would like her very much! I feel a good conversation would be far more entertaining than standing out here all on your lonesome."

Hamilton decides to not comment on her notice of his state of being alone. "Aye? Have you truly found a person who would not bore me more than you?"

Hamilton chuckles as he earns another smack from her paper fan. "How rude of you!" She says lightly. "Come now, Alexander. Before you grow ill in this cold weather."

He sighs, resigned, and follows her inside the ballroom. She loops her arm around his and drags him through the hall with great purpose and determination.

Hamilton cannot help but chuckle. "Where are you taking me?"

Kitty smiles knowingly at Hamilton. "I am about to change your life!"

Before he can reply, he finds them halting in front of a familiar young woman. Her face is tinted pink — perhaps from the heat — and she smiles sweetly at him as she waves her fan quickly.

Hamilton's playful grin melts into one of friendly affection. "Miss Schuyler? What a wonderful coincidence running into you here."

"Ah, yes, sir," Elizabeth Schuyler replies, ducking her fan behind her back with little grace. He finds her odd clumsiness to be rather endearing. He recalls her being far more sophisticated during their initial meeting in Albany.

"Please," Hamilton says, pulling his arm from Kitty and reaching out for Miss Schuyler's hand. He bends over and kisses it, looking up at her with a raised brow. "You may call me Alexander."

Her smile seems to grow an edge with something burning behind it. Hamilton feels his blood tickle his body and his insides twist with elation at the fire glowing behind her eyes. "Well, then if that be the case, Alexander — you may call me Elizabeth."

Hamilton stands up straight and offers his arm. "Would you care for a dance, Elizabeth? I promise I have learned how to do so in the time since we last met." He neutralizes his features as images of John Laurens teaching him to dance late in the night flashes through his mind's eye.

Kitty wordlessly slips his wine glass from his hand as Elizabeth nods, looping her arm with his and walking with purpose to the dance floor. Hamilton stares into her black eyes, feeling himself become lost in their endless void of wonder. They remind him of the night skies he was gazing upon earlier and finds he may not be so gloomy at this party after all.

* * *

Hamilton stirs startlingly, gasping and breathing erratically. He feels the dampness of blood dripping from his nose and wipes it away with the back of his hand quickly. Hamilton wipes the blood upon the stolen coat he had used as a pillow and watches the others sleeping nearby.

"Morning," Daveed whispers in a gruff voice.

Hamilton startles again and looks over at the man with owlish eyes. "Sir, how long have you been awake?"

Daveed shrugs from his spot by the wooden post across from Hamilton. "An hour? Maybe two? Jon got tired and we switched turns taking watch."

Hamilton hums, nodding slowly. He sits up properly, stretching out before grabbing the coat and putting it on. Shivers rattling his bones reminds him of his regretful decision to take it off and use it as a pillow the night previous. He runs his fingers through his hair and pulls out the queue to make another.

Daveed watches him braid his hair with an odd look that Hamilton cannot place. He ignores him, finishing his queue and tying it tightly before leaning against what used to be a wooden wheelbarrow.

"What's your stance on slavery?" Daveed asks so suddenly that Hamilton feels his heart skip a beat from the shock.

"I, uh." Hamilton clears his throat. "Why do you care? It is not like my opinions matter to someone who lives two centuries in the future. Our beliefs and ethics might be vastly different as I have learned from our opposing views on politics."

Daveed's lips pinch and his face squishes with discomfort. "Was that a round-about way of saying you think slavery is okay but you don't wanna piss me off?"

Hamilton shakes his head. "On the contrary. I mean that I am actually quite against it, but I am unable to do much about it as it is the societal expectation of where I am from. My opinion is quite opposite to the common public who is rather subservient in their beliefs."

Daveed frowns. "So, you _are_ against slavery?"

"Yes," Hamilton replies. "But my stance on the matter is insignificant as it is something that inherently roots to the prejudice that those from another foreign land do not belong. I am against it but I cannot simply _do_ anything about it is all I am saying." Hamilton shrugs lethargically.

"You're Alexander Hamilton," Daveed says stoically. "You're one of the Founding Fathers. You can do something about it if you tried harder."

Hamilton feels his blood pump harder as he warms up with frustration and contained rage. "You cannot presume to know me or what I have to deal with on a daily basis. Say something as such about my character again and I will shoot you at dawn."

"How mature," Daveed grumbles tiredly, leaning back and looking at the broken roof of the barn. "You know, there are more efficient ways to deal with people pissing you off than challenging them to a duel."

"What about you, then? Are you capable of changing people's inherent prejudices?" Hamilton retaliates sharply.

Daveed laughs dryly, looking back to Hamilton and stirring Lin's slumber. "No, I can't."

"And why not?" Hamilton asks snarkily. Lin sits up, rubbing his eyes with befuddled exhaustion.

Daveed lifts a curious brow. "Because I'm just one guy. I can't just change people's minds?"

Hamilton snaps his fingers, pointing to Daveed with a wink. "And see, that my friend is where we are the same. I am only a man. I cannot change the mind of the general public so suddenly. I am hated in my profession which is one of the reasons why I had resigned from my position before, well…" Hamilton waves his arms around the environment to complete his point. "If you know of a way to end slavery sooner without causing a war to break out right after our country had just ended a war in lieu of claiming said country, then by all means, please share."

Daveed rolls his eyes, pulling his legs closer to his chest. "Alright, fine. You make a fair point. It's wrong of me to assume you can do more than you actually can."

Hamilton slumps back, sighing. "I am sorry I cannot do more for you. I wish I can make it all work. Both America and these strange abilities I have procured."

"We can help you figure it out. Your powers, I mean," Lin mumbles sleepily.

"How? They are uncontrollable," Hamilton replies defeatedly. "It is akin to a sneeze in the springtime."

"Nothing is uncontrollable. Even a sneeze can be controlled if you tried hard enough," Lin explains with a tiny smile. "Just like writing, it takes practice."

"How would I practice something I cannot understand?" Hamilton inquires with a crooked frown.

"We got a large field and nothing else better to do in this shitty time. We have the means to figure it out eventually," Daveed replies bitterly. "I miss my phone. Sitting here all night with nothing but my thoughts to keep me company might make me go insane if I have to do it any longer."

Lin chuckles at Daveed's adversion of the subject and Hamilton pouts with furrowed brows.

* * *

Hamilton feels strange in the stance he has been instructed to follow. He lifts a curious brow as his legs are spread apart and his arm be outstretched; his palm open and facing the tree in front of him. "Lin, I feel ridiculous."

"You look ridiculous, too," Anthony says, flinching as Pippa elbows him in the side.

"Look, I don't know much about this shit, so give me a break," Lin grumbles with folded arms. "That's just your typical superhero stance. The idea is to just have good balance and to kinda manifest the idea of your power coming from your hand."

"I do not understand!" Hamilton cries out exasperatingly, struggling to keep his pose intact.

"Look, you shot at things with your powers. Maybe if you imagine a portal opening in front of your hand, it might help?" Jon suggests patiently.

Hamilton furrows his eyebrows in concentration, glaring at the air in front of his open palm. He groans in frustration, flopping his arms to his sides and pulling his legs together in a comfortable posture. "This is hopeless."

"Don't give up yet!" Pippa says encouragingly, her smile sending waves of joy through Hamilton. He smiles in response to her kind gesture. "Okay, try to think about every time you glowed. How were you feeling those times? What were you thinking about when it happened?"

Hamilton's amused smile wipes from his face and he looks back at the tree in front of him. "I was…" He files through every memory of when he had glowed. He recalls glowing whenever he was stressed to the point of a painful migraine, but anytime he truly exploded with power was whenever he was yelling at Lin or…

"Angry," Hamilton replies slowly. "I was angry, enraged, or furious."

"So…" Anthony trails off, smirking knowingly at Daveed who frowns at him, unimpressed.

"Don't," Daveed says gruffly, unamused.

Anthony's smile is contagious, even to Hamilton who has no idea what he be talking about. "HamilHulk?" Anthony finally says with a low chuckle.

"I hate you," Daveed grumbles; Hamilton catches the briefest grin on his face before Daveed turns away to scowl at the grass.

"Okay, we can work with that," Pippa says soothingly, ignoring Anthony's jesting antics. "Try to think of something that angers you and try to harness that energy into forming a portal."

Hamilton nods slowly before closing his eyes and breathing slowly. He thinks about his wife and how he had failed her. His chest hurts.

He thinks about his children and how he fears abandoning them. His veins begin to boil his bloodstream.

He thinks of Lin and his irritating play. Hamilton feels his arms tremble and twitch.

He thinks about how useless he is right now, unable to help these kind people who have done nothing but aid him. Hamilton's nostrils flare as he breathes deeper.

He thinks of John Laurens and how he had given up in the final years. _Why has Hamilton been unable to do one thing right in his goddamned life?_

_SWOOSH~_

**_CRASH!_ **

Hamilton opens his eyes in shock, gaping at the tree that now glows in blue flames. Everyone watches the flames shift in hue to a deep fiery orange before they all exchange nervous glances.

"I had not…" Hamilton is unable to finish speaking as he gawks at the five of them with raised brows. "That was not my intention."

"That was fucking awesome!" Anthony says excitedly, catching Hamilton by surprise.

"You are not...upset?" Hamilton mumbles in befuddlement.

"Hell no!" Anthony yells brightly, his grin splitting his face and accentuating his dimples. "Dude, that is progress!"

"That's better than nothing," Daveed agrees with a smile of his own. "Although, maybe try not to blow up the tree again and maybe focus more on manifesting the portal and less on that anger?"

"Right," Hamilton hums with a curt nod, smiling sheepishly. "Less explosive, more contained."

"And uh, definitely don't direct that over here," Lin adds nervously. "I would rather you blow up the tree again than one of us?"

Hamilton's lips twist into a strange expression of discomfort. He nods once again before turning away from them and facing the flaming tree. _Less anger and more focus. He can manage that, surely?_

Hamilton closes his eyes and breathes slowly, starting again. He begins to focus on manifesting a window. His brows scrunch together as he looks into his mind, deciding on one thought and sticking to it — no matter how embarrassing it may be.

_John Laurens._

His chest buzzes and his veins tingle. Hamilton squeezes his eyes further and twists his head, trying to enhance the blurry image in his mind. It appears as if he be gazing through a frosted window, struggling to witness what may be on the opposite side.

Hamilton's head throbs as he focuses harder, ignoring the dull ache as it grows sharper in image and pain. He envisions Laurens sitting at a table, gripping a wine glass tightly. Hamilton groans as his head throbs harder.

"Woah, Hamilton, maybe you should stop," he hears Lin say with great concern.

Hamilton ignores his warning and pushes further, determined to make his abilities work. His nose feels sticky and wet as John Laurens' face grows more clear.

"Hamilton!" The voice belongs to Pippa this time.

"Oh my god!" Jon breathes out in amazement.

"Holy shit, it's working," Anthony cries out.

Hamilton feels the earth beneath him spin, dizzying him and causing him to sway dangerously.

"Stop!" Lin yells desperately. "Hamilton, stop! You're hurting yourself!"

Hamilton ignores Lin's pleas as he experiences a splitting migraine enveloping his skull and heightening all of his senses. A deafening ringing noise drowns out the continuing cries of his concerned companions as he stumbles and sways, gripping his head tightly.

The last sense he be aware of is his nose dripping blood before his legs give out beneath him, promptly collapsing onto the ground with a **_THUD-_**

* * *

Hamilton blinks into focus, staring at the food upon his plate. He looks up at Tilghman who is patiently awaiting his response. Hamilton smiles and raises his wine glass to his lips. “I cannot imagine what life was like without my dear Betsey gracing it, so.”

Tilghman smiles. “Aye, a woman can do that to ya.”

Laurens gulps the rest of his wine and slams the crystal cup on the table, causing the plates and cutlery to clatter upon impact.

“Laurens?” Tilghman mumbles. “Are you alright?”

Laurens hums, his lips curled downwards into a frown. “I believe I shall retire. I am far too exhausted.”

“Ha, your time in Philadelphia and France has made you unacquainted with our hard work habits, eh?” Tilghman teases with a grin.

Laurens’ frown seems to deepen for the briefest moment. “Aye.” His voice is low and gravelly. “Excuse me,” he adds under his breath before pushing himself up and leaving the dining room gloomily.

“Well, someone is in a sour mood,” Tilghman mutters before biting into his food.

Hamilton glances at the doorway with sombre eyes. He looks down at his food before excusing himself from the table. Tilghman waves him off dismissively and Washington nods curtly as Hamilton passes by to follow Laurens up the stairs.

He notices Laurens walk into the shared aide-de-camp room and Hamilton stops the closing door with his foot, glowering into Laurens' dull gaze.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Hamilton hisses under his breath as he pushes himself into the room, closing the door carefully behind him.

"Nothing, I only grow tired for the eve, Hamilton," Laurens replies flatly.

"You have been in a sour mood since you returned from France," Hamilton bites back. "Every time I catch you alone you dismiss me and during supper, you had been distant. What happened to you?"

Laurens shrugs, his expression empty as he removes his coat and hangs it on the chair at the desk. "Time changes people. Perhaps you tire of my temperament now and only have patience for your wife."

Hamilton scoffs. "Where is this coming from?"

Laurens snaps his sharp, steely gaze over to Hamilton, piercing his soul with the look. "Aye, your Betsey be the only one you have eyes for. You have forgotten me when I was gone."

Hamilton blinks quickly, dumbfounded. "John, what the hell are you on about?" He bites his lip after he says this and narrows his eyes at Laurens. "Oh, wait, no… I see now. You grow jealous, is that it?"

Laurens rolls his eyes and busies himself with papers on the table, his jaw tensing.

"You _are_ jealous," Hamilton says incredulously. "You were the one who continuously told me to get married, you _fucking_ hypocrite…"

Laurens looks up to the ceiling as if begging it to collapse on him and free him of this conversation. "Alright, fine. I admit my sins. Are you happy now?"

Hamilton shakes his head. "No! Not at all. In fact, I wish you would be more supportive," Hamilton grumbles bitterly.

Laurens laughs dryly, his grip tightening on the chair holding his coat. "Oh, my sincerest apologies for not supporting your love with another," Laurens says with venom lacing his tongue.

"You are acting unfairly, John," Hamilton seethes, his voice low and grumbling as he draws nearer. "You were my friend at some point and now it feels we be strangers!"

Laurens raises a brow, his eyes flaring with a sparkle of rage. "I suppose this was inevitable," he replies with a hard edge to his tone. "Promising me the world and handing it to another shockingly leaves a bitter taste upon mine tongue."

“Why can you not just be _happy_ for me?” Hamilton growls ferociously, slamming his hands on the table. “You were married first! Why am I not allowed to marry?”

“You know my situation is quite different to yours, _sir,”_ Laurens seethes in response.

Hamilton laughs humourlessly. “Yes, I _actually_ love my wife. You had foolishly impregnated yours and married her out of honour. That is the difference, right?”

Laurens swipes everything from the table, causing Hamilton to tremble and take a step back. “You bite your tongue, _sir!”_ Laurens shouts.

“I will not! You are acting like a child!” Hamilton barks back.

Laurens cages Hamilton between his arms, pinning him against the far wall of the room. “If I recall, you had acted quite similarly when you had discovered my marriage. You also be a _fucking_ hypocrite if you—”

Hamilton shoves Laurens away, causing the taller man to stumble backwards. “Why can you not just accept that I am able to love you both!?”

“You are selfish to want both!” Laurens roars furiously. "Choose one.”

“How dare you make me choose,” Hamilton grumbles. “You know I cannot completely choose you. You have been aware this whole time that I had to marry eventually and you told me it was all well because you loved me.”

“I do not love my wife, Hamilton...” Laurens whispers defeatedly, causing the red-head to pause. “I only love _you._ If you had married out of propriety, I would understand — but you did not. You _love_ this woman. You _wanted_ to marry her. _That_ is what upsets me, so.” Laurens deflates, leaning against the cleared table. “I thought you were mine…”

Hamilton carefully approaches Laurens. “I _am_ yours. I will _always_ be yours…” Hamilton touches his hand and Laurens flinches away.

“You stopped being mine when we were apart for too long," Laurens declares defeatedly. "You had fallen in love with her when there was a great distance between us. I was a fool to believe you would—" Laurens growls in frustration, squeezing his eyes shut as tears begin leaking from his eyes. He looks up as if to will them away. "I had tried to convince myself t'was only the darkness telling me you would move on — but it was true. You love a woman now and I am nothing but a _fucking worthless sodomite."_

"You are not worthless," Hamilton mumbles with a deep frown.

"Ah, yes, you are correct," Laurens says dryly. "The only thing I am worth is the gallows.”

“Don’t,” Hamilton says harshly.

“Or perhaps I could die with glory in battle so nobody will know of our—”

“Stop!”

“And you can live the rest of your life as a normal man," Laurens interrupts. "A wife and children and a legacy to uphold.” Laurens sighs in defeat. “And I can be forgotten so I may rot in Hell.”

“You are worth more than me, John!” Hamilton cries desperately. He grabs his face and pulls him down to his level. “Do you hear me? I will never stop loving you and you will always be worth everything in the world. America needs you more than ever. Do not give up on her. Do not give up on _me.”_

Laurens pulls away from Hamilton’s hands. “I did not give up on you. _You_ had given up on _me.”_

Hamilton fiercely shakes his head. “You are wrong. Your judgement has been clouded with melancholy.”

“No, Hamilton,” Laurens mumbles tiredly. “I finally have clarity. We must end this now.”

“Do not say that!” Hamilton sniffles, wiping away stolen tears managing to slip past his walls. “Please, Jack. Don’t say that. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Laurens whispers. “Which is why I must let you go.”

“We can make it work,” Hamilton mumbles between hiccups. “Wuh-we can still meet in secret as we always have. We can—”

“Enough.” Laurens sighs defeatedly. “It is done. _We_ are done." Laurens trudges to the door; he drops his head, looking away. "We should never have let this go so far. It was a mistake.”

Hamilton bites his lip to stop it from trembling. “It was _not_ a mistake. You were _never_ a mistake.”

Laurens opens his mouth to respond but Hamilton closes the space between them, grabbing his face, forcing their eyes to lock. "I still meant what I said about marriage. I would do it if I could. God, Jack, I would marry you a million times over if I was able."

Laurens shakes his head, carefully grabbing Hamilton's wrists and pulling his hands away from his jaw. "Do not lie to me now, Alexander. You love her too much to let her go."

"I—" Hamilton for once in his life bites his tongue because _dammit he is right._ He glares daggers at the floor. "How did we end up like this? What went wrong?"

Laurens gives him a watery smile filled with so much pain that it tears a piece of Hamilton's soul. "We should never have started this. We should have remained friends."

Hamilton scoffs, rolling his eyes. "Impossible. You were…" His eyes trail up to his lips. "You _are_ desirable…" Hamilton feels his eyelids weigh down as he leans in slowly, aiming to capture those _delectable_ lips.

He blinks in shock when Laurens holds him still, frowning deeply at Hamilton. “Stop it, Lieutenant-Colonel. I grow tired of this dance.”

“Do not fucking call me Lieutenant-Colonel,” Hamilton seethes. Laurens releases him and looks longingly at the door again. “Jack, _look at me.”_

"This ends now.” Laurens turns away from Hamilton. "Good evening, Colonel Hamilton." Laurens does not so much as a glance over his shoulder as he exits the room swiftly, closing the door behind him.

Hamilton lunges himself at the door and strikes it. He grips his hand and hisses, turning around and sliding down the door defeatedly. Hamilton slumps into a pathetic pile on the floor and sobs quietly.

_Alexander, you fool._

_What could he have done to fix this?_

Hamilton could not lie to Laurens; he _loves_ Eliza so much that the thought of abandoning her breaks his heart. Hamilton desires a big family — something he was refused as a child. Eliza can provide him with that.

And yet, he _still_ loves John. He longs for a world where they could be together and having each other is enough; that the two of them could somehow have children.

Hamilton smiles longingly at the thought of perhaps running an orphanage with his Jack, raising lost children together. They could both provide love and care for children like him who need it most. _Surely a child having two fathers at once cannot be so wrong? Having any parent at all is the only thing an orphan desires. He would know..._

Hamilton softly thunks his head against the door, closing his eyes and basking in the tranquillity of the fantasy he had built for them. He simply ignores that it be shattered to pieces like a crystalline cup of whiskey shooting past his head. John still loves him but he holds him under the water with his own love. Perhaps he should let him go if he desires for Laurens to move on and become successful in his endeavours.

_How can John not believe he has room in his heart for two? Was he a fool to think this would work? Was their love truly doomed from its Genesis? Or had they been dealt a bad hand that would have worked in their favour in another game?_

* * *

With a mouth of cotton and a throat of sand, Hamilton coughs and sputters, rolling onto his side. Every muscle feels worked to the bone and his heart pounds heavily in his chest as he catches his breath. His body vibrates and he shakes his hands before sitting up, rubbing his entire face.

"Woah, easy there, tiger." Jon's voice is soothing. Hamilton feels hands on his back, supporting him as he regains his bearings. "Just take it easy. You took quite a toll on your body."

Hamilton opens his eyes and squints uncomfortably as the light blinds him. He raises a hand to shield his sensitive eyes. "What happened?"

"You opened a portal for like three seconds and then passed out," Anthony replies in a calming tone. "Your nose was just oozing blood and we’ve been trying to wake you for maybe fifteen or twenty minutes? We kinda have no concept of time here without a clock."

Hamilton hesitantly nods, lowering his hand as the oversensitivity dulls into a bearable level. He remains squinting with furrowed brows. "Well, at least some form of progress had been made?"

Lin lets out a short, dry laugh. "That...That is _so not_ funny, Hamilton."

Hamilton tilts his head and massages his right temple. "I am not the one laughing, sir." Hamilton smiles amusedly as Lin sighs with exasperation before he returns it with earnest. Hamilton is grateful he has taken the change in tone. "I reckon we ought to take a break?"

"Hmm," Lin feigns to consider him. "I don't know, kinda digging the bloody nose and blackouts you cause to yourself and modern electricity."

Hamilton chuckles, his smile quaint. "Aye." Hamilton grunts as he slides himself to lean on the exterior wall of the barn behind him, looming his gaze over to the charred tree. "I've no clue what _'digging'_ something means, but I gather it does not involve digging any graves?"

"It might be if you strain yourself like that again," Daveed replies with folded arms and scolding features upon his face. "Look, I'm sorry if I pressured you to overwork yourself because I adamantly wish to return home, but I also would like you to _not_ die while trying, yeah?"

Hamilton's eyes twinkle with delight as his smile melts into one of cocky playfulness. "Why Daveed, if I am not mistaken — I wager that be the nicest thing you have said to me since we have met."

Daveed cracks a wide grin, rolling his eyes quite fondly. "That's all you're gonna get, old man."

Hamilton huffs with accepted impotence, his eyelids drooping and his lips tugging downward. "Again, I am not old." His face switches to one of kind amusement to reassure he only plays along with Daveed's friendly jest.

He glances at Lin and his sullen expression wipes his jovial state. "Are you alright, Lin?"

Lin purses his lips as he briefly ponders the question. "That's kind of a loaded question right now. I'll have to get back to you on that."

Hamilton exhales a lame attempt at an exclusively nasal laugh and rolls his head back against the worn wood with resignation. He ganders at the sky before settling his sights on something peculiar in the distance. He furrows his brows, cursing his deteriorating vision as he watches what appears to be a figure in the distance. He pulls out his spectacles and places them upon his nose.

"Who be that?" Hamilton asks, startling the others out of their solemn reveries.

Pippa's features grow pale. "What?"

"Over there, in the distance," Hamilton replies vacantly as he lazily nods his head in the direction, unable to lift his heavy arm to point. "Someone be headed directly our way."

Lin squints at the figure as they approach with purpose and he makes a sound akin to a scoff and an exasperated groan. "I think it's John Laurens?"

Hamilton's eyes swell in shock before flickering his sights upon the figure; and yes, that be a man so very familiar. He cannot fathom how he could not recognize the cloak and golden locks glowing in the sunlight like an angel's halo.

"The fuck is he doing here?" Daveed growls with near resentment.

"Why the hell are you still here?" Laurens roars bitterly as he approaches them with a stern frown. Hamilton would laugh at the spectacular timing of his query if he not so ardently baffled at the sight of Laurens. Laurens' venomous words be like a hardened response to Daveed's disgruntled caprice.

"Uh, well, we haven't quite figured out how to leave yet. That's why," Jon replies quite sharply which comes as a surprise since he had not seemed to be short-tempered afore now. "Why are _you_ here?"

Laurens halts a few paces away from them, his features stoic and neutral. "I had only made this journey to be certain you had returned to _when_ -ever the hell you all came from."

Anthony chokes on laughter but Hamilton has not a clue as to what be so humorous. "Damn, you just made a reference to time travel so casually, it's almost like you're just part of the crew, now," Anthony says between chuckles.

Laurens' frown deepens as he places his hands on his hips, looking down at Hamilton and ignoring Anthony's antics entirely. "What happened?"

"I tried to open a portal through time and failed," Hamilton replies. "As you can see I am out of commission and cannot move from this place like a sack of useless flour."

Laurens' frown twists into an expression of amusement before shifting again to one of concern. He moves his cloak to reveal his sword and his satchel, reaching into the bag and pulling out a half loaf of bread. "This were to be my rations for the afternoon, but it appears you may require it more than I. You all must be starved. Tis no wonder you are weakened."

Hamilton had not realized how hungry he was until his mouth involuntarily salivates at the sight of the bread, his stomach groaning ardently. Laurens begins ripping the loaf into sixths before sharing a piece with everyone there, nay himself.

"You don't have to give us all of your food," Pippa says softly, holding the bread out.

Laurens waves her off dismissively. "Nonsense. You all must be famished from your journey. I ate supper yesterday and breakfast this morn." Laurens relaxes his posture, his eyes softening at the sight of Hamilton. "I do not understand what may be occurring here, but I am certain you may be able to function properly with some semblance of nutrients in your systems."

"Oh, well, uh...thanks," Lin says sheepishly before taking a minuscule bite of his bread.

They eat in thick silence as Laurens watches them. "You wear glasses?" He says abruptly, staring at Hamilton with puzzlement.

Hamilton self consciously reaches for his glasses, but leaves them be with a scowl. "Aye. It happens with age, I am afraid."

"Or it occurs from years of writing relentlessly in poor lighting until the break of dawn," Laurens teases with a raised brow, his lips curling into a smug grin.

Hamilton scoffs, chewing his bread aggressively. His gaze flickers to his lap shamefully. "I suppose you have given many warnings on countless occasions that my eyesight would worsen due to my terrible writing habits…"

Laurens chuckles lightly. "Ah, tis a joyous feeling to know for certain that I be correct — as per usual."

Hamilton peels a few blades of grass from the earth with his free hand, flailing his arm in a lame attempt of throwing it at him indignantly. The grass barely surpasses his own legs and Laurens chokes on air as he laughs fitfully at Hamilton's failed attempt at petty revenge.

"That was pathetic," Lin says between chuckles of his own, causing Hamilton to only deepen his frown.

"You jest now, sir, but I could leave you here as I be your only way home," Hamilton snips in retaliation, causing the other's laughter to bubble brightly. Lin flicks specks of dirt at Hamilton and he flinches, rebounding by tossing a handful of grass in Lin's face.

Laurens watches them banter with a strange expression mixed with confusion and amusement. He startles at Pippa tapping his shoulder to steal his attention.

"Sorry, sorry. I just..I just wanted to say thank you," Pippa says sweetly.

Laurens blinks and nods curtly. "You are quite welcome."

"We did pack some food but we don’t have much so it really is appreciated," she adds meekly.

Laurens cannot resist the smile. "You stole food as well?" He huffs, shaking his head with an impressed grin. "I am not surprised."

"Sorry we kinda showed up and just, like, took things," Anthony says whilst scratching his head shyly.

Laurens hums, nodding once. "Well, I may not understand — but Hamilton had explained something of people experimenting on him? What I gather is this was entirely out of your control so I hold no quarrels with you."

The five ‘ _futureoneans’_ avert their gazes from each other, looking off with sullen frowns. Hamilton decides to stand up, alerting the others, Laurens included. "Sit down! You seem quite unwell, Hamilton!" Laurens orders firmly with a raised brow.

Hamilton waves him off. "No, I cannot. You had reminded me why I must figure out these damned abilities. These people are in danger because of the ones who are responsible of this."

"Nope, not necessary. You can take a breather and then you can take us home afterwards. We can figure it out from there!" Lin stutters with worried eyes.

Hamilton smiles endearingly at him, shaking his head. "Helping you secure your safety after your return is the least I can do."

Lin looks over at his friends with an oddly panicked expression. Daveed steps closer, supporting Hamilton's weight. "Well, if you wanna secure our safety in our time then maybe we can put off going back right away? I mean, we still need a plan, right?" Daveed looks into Lin's eyes and he snaps his fingers, nodding frantically in agreement.

"Yes, yes! We can’t go back right away! If it is dangerous for us to return, then we should hold off on going back so soon." Hamilton furrows his brows at the two of them, frowning in befuddlement. _Quite odd that one moment they seem eager to return home and the next they...wish to remain here?_

"I agree," Laurens cuts in. "You require rest, Hamilton. Regardless of whatever the hell is going on."

Hamilton rolls his eyes; even Laurens be on board with slowing him down. "I am not an imbecile. I can handle this. I have done this before."

"It drains you every time," Jon points out with folded arms. "You need more strength to use your powers. We should rest, plan, and try again later."

"What could I do to assist you?" Laurens inquires eagerly. "Name it and I will—"

"You will return to your duties as if we be not here, John," Hamilton snaps with pinched lips.

Laurens sighs frustratingly but nods. "Fine. I will return after nightfall to check if you still be here. I will not rest until this be handled."

"That is fair," Hamilton replies. "Now go. I am sure you will be missed by your _own_ Hamilton."

Laurens blushes furiously, his right eyebrow raising as he nervously flickers his gaze between all of the others. Hamilton waves him off impatiently. "Go!"

Hamilton watches Laurens splutter in indignation, twisting back and forth and gaping openly at them as if he has gone mad. He shakes his head and then nods quickly before turning sharply on his heel, seeing that he be not welcome in their presence any longer. Hamilton does not truly wish him to leave but cannot stand the idea of Laurens seeing him in this state.

* * *

They discuss what they could do but no plan seems to stick quite right. Hamilton practices opening a portal but must stop continuously whenever his nose begins to bleed. They repeat this process all day until they find themselves slumped in defeat, eating what little food they have remaining in front of an open fire.

"You must allow me to push myself further if we are to make any progress," Hamilton declares after a long silence of chewing. "The most progress we made was this morning."

"You passed out," Lin replies with a frown. "No, there's gotta be a way for you to do this without hurting yourself. We’ll find it."

"Laurens expects us to be gone before nightfall," Hamilton says, nodding towards the setting sun. "We must be gone before he returns."

"So _what_ if he returns? We can just tell him we'll try again in the morning," Daveed mutters as he stokes the fire; he clenches his jaw and shivers. “Who cares what he has to say. We’ll leave when we’re actually ready to.”

Hamilton's jaw clenches, his stomach drops, and his fingers twitch. He stares at the fire and startles when Lin taps his knee. "Hey, we'll figure this out. You're fine. We just don't want you getting hurt."

"We _have_ to leave," Hamilton whispers. "If I see him and his questioning gaze again I may go insane."

"Oh, I see what this is," Lin says carefully, leaning back to consider Hamilton properly. "This has nothing to do with getting us out of here. You just can't stand being around him."

"It has _everything_ to do with getting us out of here," Hamilton hisses in return. "How have _I_ become more adamant in trying to leave whilst you all learned patience?" Hamilton sends his accusatory gaze to the others who stare pointedly at the fire. "Surely you all do not wish to stay here longer. If I be not mistaken, I would suggest you are holding me back from fully realizing my abilities…"

"What?" Anthony sputters. "What the hell gave you that impression?”

“Well, Daveed has been ruthless in his complaints and desires to return home until today,” Hamilton explains with a wave of his hand. “I do not understand you people.”

“We realized last night that going back home may not be entirely safe right now,” Daveed mutters in response, still standing beside the fire and rubbing his arms. “We came here because we were running from the government, remember? I _chose_ to jump in this portal because I was trying to escape. We can’t just go back. They’re gonna fuck us up if we go back.”

Hamilton blinks, his lips tugging into a crooked display of discomfort. “Ah, right... _Those_ people…”

They exchange peculiar glances and Pippa seems to fidget impatiently, having been quiet for a while. She looks at the others with furrowed brows. “I think we should tell him.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” Lin replies sharply.

“You’re actually not gonna say anything? He deserves to know!” Pippa growls in response.

Hamilton feels uneasy, not having seen her so upset until now. “I agree,” Jon says harshly, tossing a few stones he had been silently rolling in his palm all evening into the fire. “We should tell Hamilton about the deal you made for us, Lin.”

Hamilton looks pointedly at Lin with puzzlement. “Deal? What the hell are you talking about?”

Lin avoids Hamilton’s gaze, keeping his dark eyes on the fire before him. “Fine. We _were_ sabotaging your development in learning your abilities, okay? Are you happy now?” Lin directs the final statement to his friends with a stern glare.

Hamilton flickers his gaze between everyone there, still confused. “I do not understand? Why are you holding me back from fully realizing my abilities?”

“Because that’s what _they_ wanted us to do,” Anthony mumbles, frowning into the fire. “They wanted us to help you figure out your powers so you can take us home...which is just a trap for them to capture you.”

“You will not be able to take us home and return home,” Daveed says quietly. “The government plans on keeping you. That’s why we can’t go back right away. It’s not safe.”

Hamilton considers them for a long moment before turning to Lin. “And what does this have to do with a deal?” Lin does not respond, his jaw only twitches as he fumbles with a twig between his fingers. “Lin? What deal are they referring to?”

“I agreed that I would help you figure out your powers in exchange for our freedom,” Lin snaps, glaring at Hamilton. “I sold you to my government to keep me and my friends safe.”

Hamilton gapes at Lin, his eyes unmoving as his brain registers the information thrown at him. His baffled expression sluggishly melts into one of fury. “You... _betrayed_ me?”

Lin’s eyes glisten in the firelight; Hamilton tilts his head when Lin takes a sharp intake of breath and a tear rolls down his cheek. “I am so sorry, Hamilton. I didn’t know what else to do.” Lin wipes his face pathetically, hiccupping his growing sobs. “They threatened our lives. I didn’t...I didn't know what else to do....”

Hamilton’s rage shifts and he feels that familiar hum of energy. He hears someone gasp but ignores them as he stands up slowly, glaring at Lin. “When has this deal been made?”

Lin stares up at him with wide, watery eyes. “Last night. When you were speaking with John Laurens.”

“Have you—” Hamilton takes a deep breath as his head squeezes and his ears begin to ring. “Have you signed any contracts?”

Lin blinks owlishly. “Um, contracts?”

“Did you or did you not sign your name on a piece of paper?” Hamilton growls lowly, feeling his hands tremble at his sides.

“No,” Lin chokes out shyly. “I didn’t sign anything. I shook her hand.”

Hamilton nods slowly, breathing carefully through his nose and closing his eyes. He turns away from Lin and stares at the charred tree. The tree had been full of energy and life before he had destroyed it. He thinks of Lin and how much he had changed since their first meeting.

And it all crashes down upon Hamilton in this moment — like a strike of the lightning that had started this mess. Lin may have betrayed him but his honesty explains it all for Hamilton; he would make the same deal if their positions had been reversed.

In fact, he had already decided he would be willing to give it all up for these people in a heartbeat.

This _acceptance_ changes the energy within and he feels lighter. The anchor has been released and he be free of the confines resisting him prior to this very moment.

He holds his hand out and visualizes the only place he has wished to be since the beginning of all of this.

"Hamilton?" Lin asks with deep concern laced within his tone.

Hamilton ignores Lin as he watches his veins in his hands glow like a bright blue light. He focuses on that image, the place he desires to be, and watches it form in front of him.

“Holy fuck,” Anthony breathes out in astonishment from behind Hamilton as he builds the window. He smiles at the door he sees on the other side, watching as more be slowly revealed; the brickwork, the windows, the roof, and the path leading to the home.

“Dear god!” A distant voice yells from behind, causing Hamilton’s blood to run cold.

In an instant, the window vanishes.

He stumbles backwards and looks over his shoulder with wide eyes at the young man watching the scene with horrified features.

“John,” Hamilton rasps, stumbling over as he feels himself draining. “You were not meant to witness…” Hamilton trails off, leaning over and sighing when he feels someone holding him up. He looks gratefully at Jon and Daveed who support his weight with great care.

Laurens hurries to Hamilton despite his clear fear written upon his features. He reaches in his pockets and grunts lowly in frustration as he cannot seem to find what he be looking for. Lin wordlessly pulls out a handkerchief from his pocket and holds it out to Laurens, who nods firmly and takes it as he passes by. Hamilton pulls back as Laurens reaches out and begins dabbing his nose with the cloth, grunting with indignation as he be pampered by Laurens.

“I am fine,” Hamilton grumbles bitterly.

“You are bleeding, my dear boy,” Laurens replies cooly, his face tense and his hands trembling as he dabs away the ruby liquid.

“Tis a normal occurrence whenever I do this,” Hamilton replies with a cocked brow. “Trust me. I am well.”

Laurens laughs dryly, looking near-manic as he completes his task and pulls his hand away. “Normal? What I had witnessed was far from it, Hamilton.”

“Why are you here?” Hamilton asks with a frown, shrugging away Daveed and Jon as his legs feel far more stable again. “It not yet be nightfall.”

Laurens tucks the handkerchief in his pocket, his eyes flickering around frantically at the others as he steps backwards. “I only just — I worry about — I only mean to—” Laurens makes utterly no sense as he continuously cuts himself short. His hands be shaking and his legs be jittery, as if he may flee any moment. His face colours into a dark shade of crimson and Hamilton sighs, realizing his discomfort.

“John, they know,” he whispers softly. Laurens’ eyes widen and he takes another step back. “They are from the twenty-first century. They implored me that they do not give a damn in the slightest.”

Laurens looks at Lin then Jon and pauses, staring at the man as he gives Laurens a warm grin. “You’re safe with us,” Jon says with such care, akin to one who be consoling a spooked horse. “You’re with, uh...a familiar crowd?” Jon adds sheepishly.

Laurens’ eyes somehow widen further and Hamilton waves Jon off. “Enough, you are scaring him.”

“Sorry,” Jon replies helplessly. “I think it’s very sweet that you’re worried about him even though he isn’t really, uh, the same Hamilton as the one you know.”

Laurens’ posture is stiff as a board whilst he nods curtly at Jon, his eyes unwilling to lock entirely onto Hamilton. “Even though you be from another time, I still worry over my dearest friend…” Laurens admits in a low, gravelly tone. “I had not intended to interrupt your, ahh... _departure?”_

“We were not yet departing. I had only been, uh... _practicing…”_ Hamilton explains carefully. Lin flushes and tucks his hair behind his ear, clearly embarrassed. “Truly it be the most progress made all day. I opened a passage through time without fainting. I call that a success.”

“What I saw was a...passage through time?” Laurens asks incredulously, his voice rising an octave.

“Aye,” Hamilton replies casually. “T’was indeed.”

Laurens nods slowly. “Alright…” He looks away, appearing like he may explode into mania at any moment. “Yes, alright, then… A passage through time...”

Hamilton smiles endearingly at his voice cracks. “Laurens, perhaps you should sit down.”

Laurens nods frantically and flops himself ungracefully onto the log Hamilton had been sharing with Lin before he had confessed to—

“So, what do we do now?” Anthony inquires cautiously. “Should we leave? We can’t necessarily leave him like that if we leave.”

“Where would we go?” Pippa asks defeatedly. “We can’t risk—” She halts when Hamilton sharply yerks his head.

“No need to worry, I know precisely where we may go,” Hamilton replies. “We mustn’t concern ourselves over it now.” He looks at Laurens pointedly and back to Pippa, silently sending his message.

_'No discussions of time travel around Laurens.'_

She receives it loud and clear with a soft ‘oh’ and a nod. Hamilton staggers his way to the log and sits beside Laurens, watching him with worrisome eyes. “Will you be alright, John?” Laurens looks over at Hamilton and shrugs helplessly. Hamilton sighs with resignation. “I truly wish to have not involved you with this. You already have enough on your shoulders with the war, my dear.”

Laurens puffs out sharply through his nose, flickering his gaze nervously to the others as they gather around the fire to keep warm. Hamilton places a gentle hand over Laurens’ on his lap and the younger man startles violently, yanking his hand away and shifting on the long. “If they were to do something about us they would have done so already,” Hamilton whispers lowly so only Laurens may hear.

“What provoked you to trust them so deeply?” Laurens hisses in retaliation.

Hamilton blinks vacantly, not quite expecting such a question. He looks over at the group, pondering over Lin in particular as he blankly stares into the fire, looking so much older than when they had met. Hamilton sighs, looking back to Laurens. “They have yet to do anything to make me _not_ trust them.”

Lin snaps his eyes up towards them at Hamilton’s words, his eyebrows furrowing deeply in obvious befuddlement. “These people have done nothing but provide me with food and shelter since I had appeared in their lives, unannounced,” Hamilton continues, unafraid that they may hear his words.

He needs them to hear him.

“I learned so much of the world through their eyes and I can see now that this all be far bigger than us...far bigger than even myself.” Hamilton looks over at Lin. “I greatly respect their admission to protect each other with their lives, willing to sacrifice _anything_ for their loved ones. They are like you, Laurens, in that they had no place to become involved, but here we are…” Hamilton looks to Laurens and sees his searching gaze, filled with question and concern. “When you travel through time with people, you cannot help but trust them with your life — even if they may betray you to protect their loved ones...”

Laurens snaps his head in Lin’s direction at this, narrowing his gaze as he seems to put the pieces together. “What have I walked into?”

“A war, Laurens,” Hamilton replies dryly. “A war bigger than all of us.”

Laurens stands up slowly and Hamilton follows, keeping his eyes on him even if he must crane his neck to do so. “Where does this leave us, then?”

“You will return to your life,” Hamilton replies quickly.

“I cannot simply do such a thing, Hamilton,” Laurens retaliates. “The war feels far too small now that I have seen what I have seen. How can I return to my life and pretend that any of it means anything?”

“Jesus,” Anthony mumbles under his breath.

“Because _I_ will be there, waiting for you to return,” Hamilton replies hoarsely. “I will be there by your side through it all.” Hamilton sighs, ducking his head away shyly. _May as well admit this._ “You know, that war meant _nothing_ to me after I met you?”

Laurens’ lips curl downward and his eyebrows raise, his cheeks tinting into a rosy hue. Hamilton smiles nostalgically into the fire as the flames slowly dwindle into smoke. “You were so damn stubborn, my boy. You continuously told me to marry and you had run down south to focus on the war there so you could escape me.” Hamilton notices Laurens open his mouth but he places a gentle finger over his lips, catching the taller man off guard. “You felt so much guilt over hiding your wife from me, and you felt like you had somehow tainted me with your sin or _whatever other bullshit_ you had convinced yourself.”

Laurens’ eyes swell with shock. “You know of my…?”

Hamilton rolls his eyes. “You are truly daft if you thought you could hide such a thing from me. Tis only a matter of time, now. You may as well just _tell_ your Hamilton. I was utterly pissed when I discovered it by mistake.”

“Hamilton, what are you doing?” Daveed says worriedly.

“I am telling him how the world functions,” Hamilton replies sharply. “I will not plague you with unnecessary knowledge, but I must say that you need to get your priorities in check, John. This war means nothing to your Hamilton — ambition means nothing. At this moment in time, he loves you and only requires you. Do you understand?” Hamilton lifts an inquiring brow.

Laurens looks to the others then back to Hamilton. “What are you…”

“I am giving you advice,” Hamilton says simply. “I know me better than anyone else. When he had asked to run away with you, John, he fucking _meant_ it. Take that with what you will.” Hamilton sighs, looking at the ground. “And I know you wish for it as well but you hold yourself back out of fear. I am telling you, as someone who has travelled through time, that this fear you have will be the end of you.”

Everyone continues to stand still, in silence, mouths partly agape as Hamilton holds his firm stare with Laurens’ eyes. “We should make our leave,” Hamilton announces, looking to the group. “I know where we may go to figure out our predicament.”

“Um, okay?” Anthony stutters awkwardly.

“You are leaving?” Laurens asks breathlessly.

“Aye,” Hamilton replies cooly. “You will return to headquarters after we leave. Do I make myself clear?”

Laurens silently nods, swallowing deeply as he does so. His eyes flicker towards the others before they latch onto Hamilton’s lips. Laurens catches his bottom lip between his teeth, as if he be pondering on a difficult decision. “What did you mean by saying ‘the end of me’?”

“You _know_ what I meant,” Hamilton replies gruffly. “Your reckless behaviour does not allow you to outlive this damned war.”

“Hamilton!” Lin yelps in surprise, grabbing his head stressfully. “What are you doing!?”

“I will not say any more on the matter,” Hamilton says with a firm sense of finality that makes Laurens squirm with unease. “But you needed to know.”

“He didn’t need to know that, though,” Lin says incredulously. “He really did not! Like, _at all.”_

“Will you at least tell me it was with glory?” Laurens croaks out softly.

“No,” Hamilton replies harshly. “It was without glory. You grow to be forgotten because a soldier in war means utterly nothing in the grand scheme of things. Dying is so easy my dear...living is harder.”

Lin gives Hamilton a strange look — Hamilton is aware he had quoted Lin’s play and regrets it not one bit. “All I ask of you is that you live. Living will leave the impact you so desire.”

Laurens stumbles in his footing as he reaches out, cupping Hamilton’s jaw. The action is so abrupt that Hamilton barely catches his intentions with the motion. Laurens leans in and Hamilton pulls himself backwards before he may reach his lips. Laurens stares at him, his face reddened with embarrassment. “I have a wife, John,” Hamilton grumbles. “A wife and five beautiful children who await my return. Go kiss your own damn Hamilton before you may lose him to your foolishness.” His words are harsh and bitter, but it seems to hit its mark as Laurens’ eyes grow and his mouth drops in shock.

“I do not know what compelled me to—” Laurens cuts himself off, looking sharply at the others. They all keep their faces as neutral as possible, but Hamilton knows they may be shocked within. They only remain calm and silent for Laurens’ sake.

“Goodbye, John,” Hamilton says with a sharp tone of finality. He softens and holds his face with care. “ _My_ Laurens may be gone, but _you_ are not. Your future is unwritten, so make it count, my dear,” Hamilton whispers before backing away entirely.

"Bro, he fuckin' did it again. He accidentally quoted Back To The Future..." Anthony mumbles lowly over his shoulder at Daveed, Hamilton barely catches it.

Hamilton nods firmly to the others as he walks away from the fire. “Oh, are we — are we leaving now?” Jon stumbles over his words as they clumsily follow Hamilton.

Hamilton stands in front of the tree and stares at it, feeling a strange sense of calm wash over him. He may have utterly snapped and spewed regretful words at Laurens, but he feels released from a burden now and welcomes the warm glow within his chest.

It be almost humorous how simple it is to manifest the energy into a fuzzy window before him. His veins glow in his hands as the window grows crystal clear, the front of the house visible on a stormy day, the freezing rain flying through and hitting them as he opens it further.

Hamilton looks over when Lin holds his free hand, nodding his head with a pained expression. The others are beside him, all of them linked by their hands. Hamilton turns around, feeling the winds from the other side of the portal blow his flyaway hairs across his face. His queue waves over his shoulder and he offers the befuddled John Laurens a watery grin. Laurens shivers as the fire completely wipes away with the cold wind, he crosses his arms and stares into Hamilton's eyes with a heaviness that urges his desires to remain here.

"Goodbye," Hamilton yells over the wind.

"Farewell," Laurens replies in turn, shivering violently afterwards.

This be not his Laurens. He has no right to stay with him. He has a family to look out for.

Hamilton nods to him before turning around and lowering his hand. He closes his eyes and feels no restraint from the others as he leaps through the tear he had made within the universe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter did not turn out exactly how I pictured it but I feel it works with what I have written before it.
> 
> So, you may have noticed the beginning of this chapter had flashbacks within a flashback. Those Inception flashback references are parts from my fic "A Jealous Lover"!
> 
> And for timeline purposes, the second flashback "Lams Breakup" takes place between June 6th and September 28th 1781 - nearly a year after my fic "A Dwindling Flame" and historically just before Yorktown. (I may have taken a few liberties?) Hi, I am incapable of writing anything but non-linear style stories, as you can tell 🙃
> 
> Thought I would do that to make those one-shots feel more solid in the overall story's timeline.
> 
> I could not have done this without my pals on the amrev server keeping me motivated and helping me when I have ~history panic~ moments. We welcome all newcomers! It is chaotic but good! You can join if you like:  
> https://discord.gg/FsmC8wzuuJ
> 
> \------  
> Insane Pebs history ramblings!
> 
> I took some liberties in the fic but here is the timeline I have. I had to write this down because I did so much research to really tighten the timeline and I wanna slap it on here. So, basically here is what I got:
> 
> ~ November 4th 1779: scouting Morristown for a new location.  
> ~ November 14th 1779: John Laurens arrives at Headquarters.  
> ~ November 21st-31st 1779: John Laurens leaves headquarters for Philadelphia.  
> ~ November 30th 1779: George Washington sends a letter to Nathaniel Greene saying he will be arriving at Mrs. Ford's home in Morristown tomorrow.  
> ~ December 18th 1779: John Laurens was in Philadelphia and left soon after for South Carolina.  
> ~ January 11th 1780: John Laurens arrives in Charlestown.  
> ~ January 12th 1780: John Laurens is at the House of Representatives in South Carolina.  
> ~ February 23rd 1780: An officer's dance assembly is run for Washington's soldiers. This is presumed to be the one where Alexander Hamilton and Elizabeth Schuyler meet properly and start a courtship soon after.
> 
> (The second flashback takes place after John Laurens returns to headquarters after being Ben Franklin's ambassador in France. Here is a timeline I made for that):
> 
> ~ February 11th 1781: John Laurens set sail for France on the USS Alliance.  
> ~ June 6th 1781: John Laurens docks in Boston and shares the good news with congress that France will supply money and supplies for their cause.  
> ~ September 28th 1781: The battle of Yorktown begins. (It ends on the 19th of October, 1781.)
> 
> So basically, the second flashback takes place at some point after Laurens arrives from France but before Yorktown. I took a bit more liberties with this flashback since I was unable to pinpoint precise dates he could have returned to headquarters.
> 
> Here are an assortment of my sources:  
> https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Hamilton/01-02-02-0546
> 
> https://www.google.ca/url?sa=t&source=web&rct=j&url=https://www.nps.gov/morr/learn/education/classrooms/upload/Chronology-Morristown-B.pdf&ved=2ahUKEwiZ-9XDvKbuAhUunOAKHeWEDsoQFjALegQIGxAB&usg=AOvVaw2Pazjie50NoaVFXYhAEhlp
> 
> https://www.revolutionary-war-and-beyond.com/colonel-john-laurens-sets-sail-france-uss-alliance.html#:~:text=On%20this%20day%20in%20history%2C%20February%2011%2C%201781%2C%20Lieutenant,American%20Revolution%20to%20an%20end
> 
> Laurens, Henry. “Correspondence between Hon. Henry Laurens and His Son, John, 1777-1780. (Continued).” The South Carolina Historical and Genealogical Magazine, vol. 6, no. 4, 1905, pp. 137–160. JSTOR,  
> https://www.jstor.org/stable/27575109?seq=1#metadata_info_tab_contents
> 
> And special thanks to @queerrevolution1776 on Tumblr for helping me organize/finalize this timeline! Go check out this blog if you are into amrev and queer history!


	18. ACT IV - Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy, it's been a hot minute. I hope you're all doing well!
> 
> Sorry, I keep giving y'all whiplash. This chapter is 4.2k words, unlike the previous chapter which surpassed 10k xD It probably has to do with the fact that the Hamilton POV chapters are just...wordier... ahaha (Also, we finally surpassed 100k words total! Woah! This is officially the longest book I have ever written in my entire life so far!)
> 
> I have a reason why this took so long to update but I'll explain later in the lower author's note. I'm sure you just wanna get into it so ye. I hope you enjoy it! (Thank you to everyone for the: comments, kudos, bookmarks, etc! I really appreciate it! They brighten my day! Also, we are ~almost~ at 10k hits, fam!? THANK YOU! I can't believe so many people like my chaos!)

If there is one word Lin could use to describe the feeling of jumping through a portal, it would simply be; _cold._ He wonders if it is because of the fact the opposite side of the portal tends to be in cold weather, but he also cannot shake off the icy sensation tickling his skin as they fall through. It feels like gravity ceases to exist for a moment before yanking them to the cold-hard ground on the opposite side.

Lin is surprised that he doesn’t knock out when he lands — he’s just _painfully_ aware of every single organ and bone finally settling after falling through space-time itself. He rolls over and shields his eyes from the rain pelting his face, watching the blue portal shrivel and vanish behind their pathetic pile on the yard of this random house. He wonders whose house this could be, but knowing Hamilton, it is probably linked to him somehow.

“We just went from dry cold to wet cold!” Anthony groans as he sits up, rubbing his head.

“Hamilton?” Pippa calls out worriedly as she crawls over to his limp frame lying on the grass. “Hamilton, please wake up!”

Daveed rolls over and smacks Hamilton’s shoulder, causing him to startle and wake. He sits up slowly, moaning and rubbing his stiff muscles as he does so.

“Your nose is bleeding again,” Jon states with a firm frown.

Hamilton nods and wipes his nose with his sleeve before standing up. He helps Pippa and Daveed stand up while the others make their way to their feet on their own.

“Where are we?” Lin asks with a violent shiver, his teeth clattering as he folds his arms over his damp coat.

Hamilton opens his mouth to respond but pauses, staring up at the house before them with awe. “I've done it,” Hamilton whispers breathlessly. He quickly strides down the path and the others jolt and follows hastily. He reaches for the door handle and opens it. Lin can hear him gasp as they all enter the house. The home is warmer than outside and appears to be very elegant; well, to Lin, at least. The staircase along the left wall of the foyer leads to a dark upper level, and the room to their right glows orange.

A little girl peeks her head from the room at the sound of Jon closing the front door and she halts in her step, staring wide-eyed at Hamilton. Her hair is strawberry blonde and her eyes are a deep blue, just like—

“Father?” The girl says breathily.

“Angie,” Hamilton says with a wobbling voice. He drops to his knees as she sprints towards him, locking her arms around his neck and crying into his shoulder. Hamilton sniffles, his shoulders shaking as he holds onto her tightly.

Lin and the others say nothing as they watch the scene play out.

Another kid pops into the room, a young boy with dark hair. “Pops?” He turns into the room he came from with a wide grin. “Pops came home!”

Lin cannot prepare himself for the wave of children suddenly pouring into the room. Three boys scurry into the foyer and tackle Hamilton, causing him to fall over. He laughs, tears streaming down his cheeks as he holds onto his children joyously. Lin sniffles and quickly wipes a tear that managed to escape.

“We missed you, father!” One boy cries out.

"I tried to be brave like you said, daddy." The smallest boy says meekly.

"I am proud of you, son," Hamilton says with such tenderness that it speeds up Lin's heartbeat. "I am sorry I was gone for too long. If I had a choice in the matter I would have stayed."

“Mama has been worried about you, pop!" The first boy from before cries out. "Where have you been?"

And, as if she has been called in on cue, a woman walks in with a baby in her arms. Lin tries to stand tall and smile politely at the sight of her. Lin knows this woman from the painting he has seen of her; Elizabeth Schuyler Hamilton.

A young black woman follows her into the room and even she stops to gasp at the sight, her eyes glossing with unshed tears.

“Mr. Hamilton!” She whispers, shocked.

“Hello, Maggie,” Hamilton says sweetly, sitting up and grunting when the smallest boy hops on his back. “It seems I have gone a bit astray whilst trying to deliver my letter of resignation.”

“Damn you, Alexander!” Eliza grumbles, handing the baby over to Maggie and storming over to Hamilton. She falls to her knees and captures him in a tight embrace. She cries into his shoulder and he soothes her, holding her tightly.

“I am here. I am safe…” He whispers sweetly into her ear. “I am home, my darling…”

She pulls back and wipes her face, frowning at him. “Where were you, Alexander? We could not find you anywhere! We had assumed the worst…”

Hamilton bites his bottom lip and looks up to Lin and the others. “Well, ah...Tis a long story, my dear.”

“We have time,” a deep and horrifyingly familiar voice says from the other end of the room. Lin and the others feel stiff as George Washington enters the foyer from the same room as the others. His hands are behind his back and he looks far older than when Lin had seen him in 1778.

“Mr. President?” Hamilton mumbles sheepishly as he hastily stands up at attention. “Sir, what are you — why are you here?”

“I had received your letter of resignation and then I had heard you had gone missing, son.” He looks over to the others behind Hamilton and Lin feels his heartbeat pick up speed. “I am not here on business...I am here as a...well, as a concerned friend.”

Hamilton blushes furiously and scratches his neck shyly. “Aye, well...I thank you for your concern, sir. But I am well…”

Washington raises a curious brow. “Are you? You look dirty and cold...and why are you wearing your uniform from the war?”

Hamilton looks down at himself and then looks back at Lin desperately. Lin can see in his eyes that his look means one thing; _‘do I have permission to tell him?’_

Lin nods once and Hamilton spins around. “I promise I will explain everything, but first we must settle ourselves.” Hamilton gestures to the group behind him. “These are my friends. We must see to it that they are fed and cleaned.” He turns towards them with a warm grin. “They saved my life.”

Eliza and Washington’s eyes brighten at this. “Saved your life?” Eliza says as she stands slowly.

“Uh, that’s a bit generous. We hardly did that,” Lin replies sheepishly, realizing none of them have spoken a word in this house.

“You had opened your home to me and helped me return to mine. Just as you promised,” Hamilton says sternly, his gaze sharp. Something about the way he phrased that was... _strange._ Lin gazes around the room and sees that he has, indeed, helped Hamilton return home...but he can't shake off this odd feeling. “You did not have to show such kindness to a lost stranger. Please, allow me to return the favour.”

Lin shyly shakes his head and blushes as Washington approaches him. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mister…”

“Lin!” He says nervously. “Lin-Manuel Miranda, sir.”

Lin nearly passes out when Washington shakes his hand. “Thank you, Mr. Miranda, for your kind service…”

“They helped as well, sir,” Lin blurts out, pointing to his friends. They all give him owlish looks, all of them still stunned into silence.

Washington’s eyes widen at the sight of Pippa. “My dear, you are wearing breeches?”

Pippa blushes furiously. “Ah, as Hamilton mentioned...It's a long story as to why we're dressed this way.”

“Oh, dear. I have some dresses you could borrow,” Eliza offers with a bright grin. “You look to be about my size.”

“Ah, it’s fine. We have our own clothes we can change into,” Pippa replies awkwardly. Jon lifts the satchel he had carried through the portal with a crooked grin to solidify Pippa’s statement. Lin hadn’t noticed Jon grab their satchel before leaping through the portal. He was so focused on Hamilton and Laurens. He really _couldn’t_ do this without his friends.

Washington properly greets Pippa, kissing her knuckles and causing her to grin sheepishly.

"And what be your name, young man?" Washington asks the next person in their odd lineup by the front door.

"Anthony Ramos, sir," he replies with a nervous grin. Washington smiles and shakes his hand. Nobody says anything.

Washington meets Jon, next, and the poor guy nearly trips over his own feet as he eagerly shakes George Washington's hand.

Daveed seems shocked when Washington approaches him. "And what shall I call you, sir?"

Daveed's eyebrows scrunch. "My name is Daveed Diggs."

Washington tilts his head and smiles strangely, holding his hand out. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance Mr. Diggs…" Daveed carefully holds Washington's hand, his eyes wide as he shakes it firmly.

Washington releases the handshake and approaches Hamilton, not speaking anymore on the matter. This man has no idea how insane that just was for them. He shook not only Anthony's hand, but he also shook Daveed's hand.

Either Dr. Lutece's theory was correct and this is an alternate universe from their own or George Washington was probably not as terrible as he seemed. _How could someone who owns slaves shake the hands of men who have a darker skin colour than him? Maybe it is only because Hamilton spoke highly of them._

Lin swallows painfully as he watches the children seem to gravitate towards them as Hamilton speaks with Eliza and Washington. Lin desperately wishes to return home.

* * *

Time is a fuzzy blur of events. Lin barely recognizes Hamilton ushering his children away from them and taking the cast to various rooms to wash themselves and change back into their own clothes.

Lin looks at the two beds and the crib in the room he is washing his face in. He shivers at the feeling of the cold water but accepts that they simply cannot heat it for him on such short notice. He remembers blushing furiously when Hamilton had to show him how to use the pump in his yard to fill buckets and then proceed to carry the water buckets up the stairs and dump them into the basin.

No wonder Hamilton thought indoor plumbing was a miracle.

Lin wipes his face with the cloth and stares at himself in the mirror. He feels so out of place here, wearing his normal clothes again in this era. He still can't believe he is in Alexander Hamilton's house.

Lin startles violently at the sound of soft knocking on the door; he sighs. “Come in.”

Hamilton enters wearily, sporting his clothes from before the second time jump; his infamous violet coat. “How are you?”

“Hmm, still gonna have to get back to you on that,” Lin replies with a brief smile.

Hamilton hums a short laugh, his eyes gazing longingly at the bedroom. “I am sorry for subjecting you to my family so suddenly. This was the safest place I could conjure.”

“Ah, don’t be sorry. They’re wonderful,” Lin replies sheepishly. “Have you spoken to your wife about any of this?”

“I have not, yet.” Hamilton sits on one of the beds, sighing and rubbing his face tiredly. “I’ve not a clue on where to even begin.”

“I mean...you could maybe tell her the truth? Just not too much of it,” Lin replies carefully.

“Of course. I would not wish to burden her with knowledge,” Hamilton whispers. His arms dangle between his legs and his posture is far more crooked than Lin is used to seeing him. He appears distracted and as tired as someone would be in this situation. “Time is running out. My wife and the president will inevitably ask us far too many questions we have no answers for and I am dreading it greatly.”

“As am I,” Lin replies, sitting beside Hamilton on the bed. Lin chews on his bottom lip as too many thoughts invade his mind. He needs to get a few things off his weighted chest. “Um, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry...about making that deal. I really didn’t wanna do that but that lady was there and I was scared and I...don’t know. There is no excuse for my shitty behaviour.”

“You are forgiven,” Hamilton replies earnestly. _Lin doesn’t deserve it._ “I must admit that I was furious... but then I somehow found _it_ inside of me. I realized how to control my abilities through your actions.”

Lin hums, tilting his head. “Oh yeah, how _did_ you do that?”

“I found this...acceptance within me,” Hamilton admits, staring at the floor sternly. His knuckles go white as he grips the mattress. “I was finally able to tell Laurens what I wanted to say most. All I desired was the opportunity to say goodbye...” Lin’s face twists into a solemn frown. “I had also discovered that I would make the same deal had our positions been reversed.”

Lin hums, looking out the window, watching the rain and hearing the _tip tap tip tap tip_ against the glass. “Telling people what they want to hear is not a new concept for a man as myself," Hamilton confesses. "It be impossible to do the right thing for others _and_ for yourself, simultaneously. I see now that I have been rather selfish in always choosing myself first. You and your friends helped me see this flaw within myself."

Lin continues to stare out the window, not responding. Hamilton is taking accountability for his actions in life and Lin feels a swell of pride that he had somehow been involved with that. The guilt instantly evaporates any pride he may have had, however.

"After my initial fury dissipated,” Hamilton continues. “I felt...at peace. That was when the portal opened. I had an epiphany. I did not have to strain myself at all, but rather, I had to relax. I had to embrace it.”

“Huh, makes sense,” Lin replies, looking back at Hamilton with a crooked grin. “Are you gonna use your powers to entertain your kids?”

Hamilton snaps his head in Lin’s direction sharply, his features paling and his eyes widening. “Christ," Hamilton hisses sharply. "No!”

Lin chokes out a sharp laugh, shaking his head. “I was only kidding.”

Hamilton lifts a curious brow and speaks slowly. “Kidding?”

“Like, joking,” Lin explains, laughing still. "You know, jesting?"

“Oh, yes,” Hamilton says deliberately. “Reminds me of Kidder.”

“Kidder?”

“Richard Kidder Meade, one of Washington’s aides.” Hamilton pauses and smiles privately to the floor. “And a dear friend of mine. He was quite the jester.”

Lin laughs dryly. “Huh, you don’t say.”

A knocking on the doorframe captures their attention. “Hey, I need you to know Anthony and Jon might steal your children if we don’t stop them,” Pippa says with a light tone, her dimples dominating her bright grin.

Hamilton chuckles and stands, rubbing his hands over his clothes to flatten them out. "Right, then. Shall we go? I suppose now is the best time to deal with this mess."

Lin nods as he stands up; he thinks about what Hamilton said before Lin had joked himself out of an earnest confession. He wonders why he still feels guilty even after Hamilton had forgiven him and even admitted that he would do the same thing.

* * *

Lin doesn't know what is more surprising. The fact that Hamilton had a kitten notebook in his inner coat pocket or the fact that he took time to write down most of what happened. The events seemed to stop at some point before going on the road trip to Valley Forge, during the blackout — leaving them to finish the rest of the tale on their own.

Lin shouldn't be shocked — Hamilton is a writer, so it makes sense he would write it all down. And Jon is definitely the type of person to provide him with a dollar store notebook with kittens on it.

Washington holds the ballpoint pen Hamilton had acquired from Jon with great delicacy. He examines the pen with astonishment and clicks the back part occasionally as Hamilton finishes explaining their journey through time.

Hamilton is very clinical in his examinations, speaking like a lawyer and stating the facts, but also only revealing what they need to hear. He conveniently leaves out any existence of the musical, politics, the internet, and his own future demise. _He doesn't so much as breathe Philip's name, once._

He also refers to John Laurens with far less fondness than Lin expected. Eliza and Washington visibly soften at the mention of Laurens, but Hamilton keeps his features eerily vacant, speaking about the events as if they didn't affect him as much as they truly did.

Washington clicks the pen one last time before placing it gingerly on top of the kitten notebook. "That be everything?" Washington inquires gruffly.

"Yes," Hamilton replies with a curt head nod.

"All that's left is Hamilton taking us home without any of us getting caught by the government in our time," Anthony supplies with scrunched shoulders; his shoulders sag in defeat.

"Allow me to take a moment to...process this," Eliza says as she stares at her teacup on the coffee table. Washington stares stoically at the far wall and Lin wishes he would look angry over the vacant expression.

Explaining time travel when you, yourself, have no idea how it functions is unsurprisingly difficult. Lin is shocked that these two seem to believe it. Their issue is not one of belief, but rather, one of acceptance; which is entirely fair.

People in the past seem to be easier to convince of things merely _existing,_ but it is hard for them to sit well with things as they have a very clear way of life. Being told your understanding of the world is wrong can be crushing — so Lin gets it, honestly.

But if Mrs. Hamilton and the very first President do not change their vacant expressions to anything else, Lin might go insane from the discomfort. He can sit and gawk at them with warm cheeks and a clear expression of embarrassment and confusion, so their empty gazes are almost insulting. _What is up with these people, anyway? Why are they hiding their emotions? Is it some societal expectation?_ Lin feels the impulse to eat the dishes or the curtains if they do not stop staring at them with those damn empty—

"How are we going to return these people to their homes if Congress is after them in their own time?" Washington says with a shockingly commanding tone, his features _unsurprisingly_ stoic.

"You had fought so hard for this nation. It seems quite strange that America would turn into something like this," Eliza adds, looking at Hamilton with actual emotion. Lin almost smiles and sighs with relief when he sees her concern. "Why would they do such a thing?"

"Perhaps the nation was doomed from the start," Washington mutters defeatedly and now Lin wishes for the stoic nature to return. Washington stands up slowly, his features melting into one of pure agony and distraught. "If America could fall this low, surely this is _our_ doing?"

"Woah, hey. Mr. President," Daveed says nervously, standing to meet Washington's eyes as the older man grabs the sofa and curls over in discomfort. "Y'all did the best you could with what you had," Daveed turns to Hamilton, smiling slightly. "I see that now." He turns to Washington who stands taller with a lifted brow. "You can't pin the faults of people from the future on yourself. Their selfishness is on them, not you, sir."

Hamilton stands and pats Daveed's shoulder with a bright grin. "Well, said, Daveed. Besides, worrying about the cause may distract us from the goal — returning you all safely to your homes."

"What about you, Hamilton?" Jon mutters. All eyes are on him. "I mean, they still want you and your abilities. If they found us in the Revolutionary War, they'll inevitably find us here."

"That's actually a good point," Pippa says calculatingly as she rubs her chin, furrowing her brows at nothing in particular. "We might not be safe here forever. We can't endanger your family or the first President."

Lin glances at Hamilton and pauses as their gazes lock. Lin had been so focused on Eliza and Washington that he took zero notice on the state of Hamilton. He seems eerily calm with a relaxed expression on his face as if reassuring Lin silently that he somehow figured it out.

Hamilton's fists are clenched but beyond that, he seems at... _peace. Something is not adding up._

"Why did you take us here, Hamilton?" Lin asks suddenly, gaining the attention of the others. "We made sure you were aware that they were following us. So why risk the danger of your family? You said yourself you would do anything to protect them." Lin gives him a knowing look, silently referring to the deal he made for his own friends and family.

_If Hamilton would have made the same deal, then why risk these people finding him with his family?_

"Alexander?" Eliza's voice is as soft and delicate as the petals of a flower. Her concern shifts as she approaches her husband, her brows furrowing. "My darling, is there something you are withholding from us?"

Hamilton seems to melt under her touch, holding her hand as it cups his cheek. He blinks down at her and a tear slips out. Lin's stomach sinks to the floor and a _thought_ passes through his mind.

Hamilton felt acceptance and peace — those are the precise words he had spoken to Lin, earlier. The meaning behind them becomes abundantly clear at this moment. "You got to say goodbye," Lin croaks out, his throat feeling dry. "That was what you wanted…"

"What?" Anthony exclaims in befuddlement, looking between Hamilton and Lin. "Goodbye?"

"My dear, you deserved to know," Hamilton whispers privately to Eliza as if the room only holds the two of them. "It brings me great joy to know you are not alone." He gazes up at Washington and Lin feels himself tremble with rage.

"You motherfucker," Lin growls, causing Eliza to gasp. Hamilton looks over at Lin with glossy eyes. "You already made your choice. We're only here so you can say goodbye to your family."

Eliza shudders, gasping and covering her mouth in shock. "Is this true?" She furrows her brows and forcibly turns Hamilton's chin to face her again. "Alexander, is he speaking the truth?"

Hamilton disregards her and looks at Washington. "You must promise me, sir, that my family will stay safe."

"Hamilton, what are you doing?" Jon asks breathlessly.

"Your family will remain safer with you, son," Washington replies firmly, his grip on the couch tightening.

"You heard our journey, sir," Hamilton bites back. "You and I are aware that nobody is safe with me any longer."

"Alexander, what are you planning to do?" Eliza demands, grabbing his coat lapel and forcing him to look at her. She almost appears taller than him with the way he shrivels under her burning gaze.

"I am protecting you and the children and aiding these kind people." Hamilton holds her hand. "I am sorry, my dear. It be the only way to keep you all safe."

"No, there's gotta be another way," Lin snaps, shaking his head and standing up to march over to Hamilton. Eliza shifts out of Lin's way as he approaches them. "You are not turning yourself into the government. They only wanna use you and your powers. Nothing good can come from that."

"What other choice is there to make?" Hamilton sighs and shrugs helplessly. "I am the one they are searching for. I was their failed experiment from the start, Lin. I should not have to drag you all down with my inevitable demise."

Lin shakes his head, unwilling to relent. "Fuck that. There's gotta be another way."

Hamilton glares sharp daggers into Lin's eyes. "If you thought there was another way, you wouldn't have made that deal, and you know it."

"I said I was sorry about that!" Lin retaliates furiously.

"And I said I forgive you," Hamilton seethes in return.

"It was a terrible decision. You're Alexander Hamilton. You're a fucking lawyer for christ's sake!" Eliza covers her mouth in shock, clearly unused to hearing such foul language. "Figure out another way for everyone's best interests!"

Hamilton smiles patiently at Lin and carefully shakes his head. "I have spent my entire life focusing on _my_ best interests. It is time I do what is best for _others."_

Hamilton smiles at his wife with a look of finality that visibly melts her stiff posture. She sighs, a tear slipping from her eyes, and she nods slowly. A silent exchange only two long-time partners could understand. Washington places a hand on her shoulder, staring deeply into Hamilton's eyes. He seems less forgiving but his hand on Eliza's shoulder is one of a general — he has accepted his duty.

"I am not okay with this," Lin grumbles in defeat.

Hamilton turns to him, his smile melting into one of amusement and tranquillity. "I know…" He blinks and his eyes glow, causing Eliza and Washington to gasp.

"Wait!" Anthony yells as a familiar draft picks up behind them. _The pull of a portal._

"You piece of—" Lin is cut off as Hamilton waves his arms forward, a translucent wave of blue pushing them into the magnet behind them, sucking them through the void.

The last thing Lin sees is Hamilton pecking his trembling wife's lips before following them through the ice-cold passageway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aye, so I have been busy developing my next fanfic. I wanna make sure I have most (if not all) of it pre-written before I post it since I wanna be able to have a proper uploading schedule (also, if I wanna change anything, I can because it is still in drafting mode.) My next fic will be a Historical Lams au. I'll reveal a bit more later on but I really didn't wanna stop after this particular fic, so I hope some of you will join me on my next adventure. (:
> 
> This current story is nearing the finale now. ~So close, fam~ I can't believe we're almost done :') Very bittersweet!
> 
> Until then, I'll see you soon with the final installments of SITF! (Also, please take that 22 total chapters limit with a grain of salt. It could be more...could be less. I promise I will let you know for sure when you are reading the final chapter. It is really close though. The climax is only right around the corner...)
> 
> Bye! See you...soon-ish, lol. I am not making any promises. Just know I will not stop writing this fic - over my dead body.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 6.3k words. We have given up chapter word-count consistency a long time ago, fam xD

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, it took me ~squints at calendar~ _3 weeks_ to post this chapter. I really wanted to make sure it was good.
> 
> The next chapter will not take as long as I had already pre-written the epilogue early on. Just needs some tweaking/edits and then....the story is officially done...
> 
> Thank you, everyone. I hope you enjoy it!

Hamilton wakes up to movement and pulls himself up, groaning from his sore joints cracking. He cards his fingers through his bed-ridden curls and gazes at Laurens, smiling with relief as his hand lightly grips his own. His eyes still be closed, but he seems to be slowly stirring awake and subconsciously grabbing Hamilton’s hand.

“John?” Hamilton whispers, feeling his cheeks flush as Laurens responds with squeezing his hand. He hums and slowly flutters his eyelids open. Hamilton automatically takes the cool cloth from the bucket beside him and drains it before lightly dabbing the sheen of sweat from Laurens’ brow. He releases Laurens’ hand to place the back of his hand on Laurens’ cheek and sighs with relief again; his temperature has lowered considerably.

“Alex…”

“Shh, Laurens. Don’t speak,” Hamilton coos soothingly, putting the cloth down to stroke his tangled honey locks away from his sticky forehead. “You’ve been ill. You are truly a fool for not seeking medical attention immediately after getting shot.”

“I am well,” Laurens replies hoarsely; a dry cough rips through his lungs to negate his statement.

Hamilton’s lips tug downward as he raises an accusing brow at his friend. “You were shot and bruised your damn ribs, then you were stricken with a fever from the infected gunshot wound. You have been delirious for days.”

Laurens gazes at him with glassy eyes. He seems so small being bandaged and sweaty in this lone cot, his skin ghostly pale and riddled with various bruises from the battle. “I am fine, now. My health has improved immensely.”

Hamilton shakes his head deliberately, feeling bitter tears prick his eyes. He squeezes them shut, refusing to show such weakness. “I thought I was going to lose you, John…” Hamilton’s intake of breath is shaky and he furiously wipes the escaping tears. “I do not know what I would have done — had you not made it,” he admits meekly.

The lone candle in their tent flickers with the draft, causing the shadows to dance across Laurens’ concerned expression. “Alexander?” His voice is coarse and low; it rumbles like thunder.

“Damn you, John.” Hamilton wipes another tear indignantly and grabs Laurens’ hand, stroking it carefully and staring down at him with affirmed clarity. “You snuck your way into my heart and I am but a damn fool who be hopelessly devoted to you… You are the closest friend I have ever had, my dear. I cannot lose you.”

Laurens’ gaze flickers between Hamilton’s deep violet eyes, tears clearly forming at the blunt fondness Hamilton is sharing. _How dare this man steal into his affections?_ He truly should not care so much, but the thought of losing him as he lost his mother pains him so. Laurens lifts his binded arm as far as it may go, holding Hamilton’s bicep. His other hand slips free from Hamilton's grasp to stroke his cheek and wipe the tears with his thumb. He pecks Laurens’ jaw tenderly, his lips lingering on his face for a moment too long to be considered platonic. Hamilton’s body ignites at the simple action and he subconsciously leans closer even as he pulls away to catch John’s gaze again.

The air shifts into something familiar — into what they have been dancing around for a considerable amount of time.

Laurens’ gaze flickers to his lips before looking back into Hamilton’s eyes expectantly. Hamilton closes his eyes and Laurens fills the gap, gently pressing their lips together. Hamilton’s heart bursts at the euphoric feeling and tilts his head, uncaring if he catches the feverish sickness from Laurens as he needlessly goes closer for more. _Now that he finally has a taste, he will not let go._ Laurens’ hand delicately trails to the nape of Hamilton’s neck and pulls him closer, causing him to slide his right leg over the cot to be overtop of Laurens.

Their kiss grows needy and desperate, finally ending their holy lent and feeding their darkest desires. Hamilton has wanted this since Laurens’ second week on Washington’s staff but he resisted — fearing exile or death for his sinful nature. His hands carefully caress Laurens’ torso, bare aside from the binding wrapped around his shoulder and arm. He keeps his kisses and hands so gentle as to not disturb Laurens' wounds, yet he still winces when Hamilton's fingers brush over his abdomen.

Hamilton pulls back, his heart thundering in his ribcage, feeling exposed and staring blankly at his wounded friend below him. Laurens also sports his own petrified expression, with his swollen lips parting as what they have just done finally seems to settle into his own brain.

Hamilton scurries off of the cot, nearly toppling over onto his rear as he staggers to his feet and grabs the chair for support. He keeps his back to Laurens as he shyly adjusts his breeches and shirt that have fallen askew. He shuffles and then slowly turns around with trepidation, his blood like ice in his veins as he sees Laurens pointedly looking away with rosy skin from his cheeks to his neck.

“My sincerest apologies…” Laurens whispers roughly. Hamilton _hates_ what John’s voice does to him. “I haven’t a clue what came over me. Perhaps I am still delirious from the fever.”

Laurens is offering a way out for them; they could return to safety and forget this ever happened. They could continue ignoring their desires for one another and never mention this again as if it never happened. Alexander does not want this — _he wants John._

“Your fever has dissipated immensely, John,” Hamilton replies boldly. “And I am not sorry for what I did. I meant everything I said. I do not wish to lose you.”

Laurens sharply snaps his burning gaze to Hamilton, his expression carefully schooled and collected. Hamilton slowly sits in the chair and raises his hand with great hesitance, watching Laurens for any sign of rejection as he gingerly holds his hand. They keep their eye contact locked as Hamilton deliberately lifts Laurens’ hand and places a gentle kiss on his knuckles. “I care for you, John,” he whispers against his knuckles. “Please, do not leave me.”

“I do not wish to make you ill,” Laurens replies nervously. Hamilton almost opens his mouth to retort that statement, saying his fever has dissipated and he may not be contagious any longer — but then he stops himself as the epiphany strikes. _He be not referring to his fever..._

Hamilton leans over the cot, making a pointed statement by firmly pressing his lips against Laurens’. He holds his mouth there long enough to get the point across, moaning as John reciprocates eagerly. Alexander pulls back a few centimetres, smiling at Laurens who looks utterly enamoured. “You cannot make me ill, my dear. I have been by your side and wanted you before you even made it clear that you wanted me.” John flushes deeply all the way to the tips of his ears. “Stay with me.”

“Always,” Laurens rasps, his voice having dropped an octave or two.

Blindly dancing in the dark, alone and confused, has been demolished with the flames of their passion as they share one last chaste kiss before Hamilton sits down again. Hamilton soothingly detangles Laurens’ hair as the man afore him, lying in the cot, watches him with open adoration. Hamilton wishes to hold him close so that they may guide one another in this darkness they must fight through together. Laurens sighs contentedly, his eyes fluttering closed as the fingers roaming through his hair lulls him to sleep. Hamilton smiles as he now knows for certain that his affections be truly reciprocated.

All it took was a death scare on both their parts. First, Alexander with the Schuylkill River incident, and then John falling ill a few nights past after the battle of Germantown. They have expressed their desires to keep each other in their lives as long as possible, and Hamilton is determined to never let him go — gods and laws be damned.

### °•°HAMILTON°•°

Hamilton startles awake as something hits his head. He shoves it away, groaning as he subconsciously wipes the dampness from his nose with his sleeve while regaining his bearings. He sits up and gazes at the offending object that had awoken him; a broomstick. The others sluggishly sit up as well, rubbing their heads and moaning with pure, unbridled exhaustion. They are crowded together in a pile, jammed inside of a cluttered room which appears to be some type of storage cupboard. A loud banging snaps their heads in the direction of the rumbling door.

“Sensors say they just appeared in here!” A deep voice from outside the door bellows to another person outside. The doorknob jiggles but does not budge as it appears to be locked.

“Are we in a broom closet?" Anthony questions with a sharp wince, holding his injured arm tenderly. Hamilton feels his stomach sink to the floor at the sight of his clear discomfort.

"How be your arm, Anthony?" Hamilton asks quickly, leaning over to look at the wound.

Anthony shoves him away aggressively, causing Hamilton to topple over onto the pile of broomsticks beside him. "No, you don't get to ask if I'm okay. Not after the stunt you just pulled!"

"Anyone find a lock for this damn door?" The same deep voice from before yells rather incoherently as the person seems to retreat.

"Where the fuck are we?" Daveed whispers, squinting as he clearly struggles to see properly within the dark cupboard.

"I brought you home," Hamilton snarls in response, their resentment having riled him up. "You're welcome, by the way."

"Fuck you!" Lin growls, leaning over to shove Hamilton further into the pile of brooms bundled against the wall behind him. "We were gonna find another way!"

"You have no right to speak to me on finding another way. You lost that privilege when you made that deal!" Hamilton bites back, shifting to push Lin away — but startling when his energy bursts the door open.

They gape at the door as it falls multiple metres away on the hallway floor, splitting in half upon impact and startling the people nearby.

A familiar woman walks into view, her silhouetted form being haloed by the harsh lights behind her. She has a playful quirk to her lips, folding her arms across her chest and raising her brow. "So, it seems you actually managed to pull through on your end of the deal. We were getting antsy."

"You can go fuck yourself," Anthony grumbles in retaliation, causing the woman to chuckle darkly. She seems mildly amused and utterly unaffected by such harsh words.

"Enough of this," Hamilton says with despondent. "Will you release them if I cooperate with you?"

"Hamilton, stop this!" Pippa gasps.

"This be for your own good," Hamilton hisses in response, his gaze unmoving from the familiar woman with the white coat. "You may do what you must with me. Let these people go."

The woman nods curtly. "Of course. We keep our promises, Mr. Hamilton."

Lin crawls to Hamilton and kneels in front of him. "What about your family?"

"They will survive without me. I made sure of it," Hamilton responds firmly. "Go home, Lin."

Lin has not a chance to respond before he and his friends be dragged away by soldiers. Anthony cries in pain as they tug his injured arm, and the men reposition themselves to tug on his other arm once they realize their mistake.

"Get these people proper food and medical attention," the woman orders. "They've had a rough few days."

Hamilton slumps obediently as two men cover his hands with peculiar chains. "Take Mr. Hamilton to his room."

Hamilton glances at Lin one last time and feels a cool sensation crawl down his back at the anger seeping out of Lin's burning glare. He is upset, but Hamilton is happy as long as they are safe.

### °•°LIN°•°

Harsh screams echo through the room, causing the others to flinch as Anthony’s wound is properly cleaned and stitched up. The room is reminiscent of a recreational break room, sporting a comfy sofa that Jon has draped himself over to take a proper nap. Pippa and Daveed sit on the adjacent couch, her head resting on his shoulder as she dozes peacefully. They all flinch when Anthony yells again, and it repeats for _god knows how long._

Lin stares at the papers in front of him lying mockingly on the table. He absently shuffles the deck of cards he found laying on the table upon entering this pristine break room. The television in the corner is off, but the refurbished jukebox is atmospherically playing a classic rock radio station. He ignores the pen to place the cards on the table, deciding to play solitaire.

“How long is it gonna take you to sign that NDA?” Daveed grumbles exhaustedly from the couch.

“As long as it takes me to play another round of solitaire,” Lin replies, his focus unmoving from his mindless game.

“If you don’t sign that, you and your family will be in danger,” Daveed adds unhelpfully.

Lin tenses his jaw, hesitating with placing the card down. “I know.” He bitterly resumes his game, pointedly ignoring the contract.

“If you don’t sign it, Hamilton’s sacrifice will go to waste,” Pippa whispers, rubbing her eye and sitting up — sleep has clearly escaped her at this point. Jon snores lightly, having fallen back into a deep sleep soon after Anthony’s umpteenth outburst in the corner of the room with one of the on-site doctors.

“I know, Pip,” Lin hisses under his breath, slapping a card down and furrowing his brows at the game. “God, I really wish he didn’t do that.”

“Well, he did,” Daveed snaps in return, turning his head to properly face Lin. His arm stretches along the back of the couch and he drums his fingers on the soft fabric in no particular rhythm. “So just fucking sign it already.”

Lin places more cards down and sighs, realizing he hasn't been playing properly, thus ruining his entire game. “I need to start over,” he mumbles to himself, gathering the cards and re-shuffling them.

“Wish I could start over the whole damn week,” Daveed says as an absent-minded response.

“If only Hamilton could bring us back to undo all of this shit,” Anthony mutters, the worst of his patching up having been handled, thankfully.

“That quantum physicist said time travel doesn’t work like that,” Pippa replies dryly.

“Yeah, I know. Let a man dream, Philippa.” Anthony’s sigh turns into a sharp hiss as the doctor tightens the stitches before proceeding.

Lin slides his thumb against the first card and is about to place it on the table when the song on the jukebox changes. He stares blankly at the scratches on the beige fold-out table while the hauntingly familiar piano melody boils his blood.

> _“Blue-jean baby_
> 
> _L.A. lady_
> 
> _Seamstress for the band_
> 
> _Pretty-eyed_
> 
> _Pirate smile_
> 
> _You'll marry a music man.”_

Lin slowly crumples the card in his hand, his nostrils flaring as the song continues to play along — _mocking him._ He sharply looks at the jukebox, narrowing his eyes as it sits there, glowing the interchanging rainbow lights and taunting him with the feel-good tune.

In the back of Lin’s mind, he can see fiery hair glowing in the sunlight, slyly quirked lips, and a smooth voice like whiskey singing along amusedly. Lin notices his friends also exchanging worried glances as the song continues to play. Even though it is nothing but a quiet hum, it feels deafening to Lin’s ears; like a moaning ghost getting consistently more persistent with its incessant pleas for attention.

Lin looks down at the contract, examining the daunting words holding his life in front of him on a silver platter.

_He thinks of children crying with joy, a concerned wife collapsing to cling to her lost husband._

Lin firmly grabs the pen with purpose and flips to the page with the dotted line. He forcibly clicks the pen and scribbles his signature, _thinking of a man wearing foreign clothes to himself and walking through New York with a wrinkled nose at the air pollution._

He re-signs his name on the second page as he _thinks of long nights working tirelessly with a saddened man wishing so desperately to return home._

He whips the pen across the room when he _thinks of this red-haired man saying goodbye to a long-lost love for the final time, the blonde man watching with a longing and forlorn expression to see his lover far older and filled with bitter resentment over his past mistakes._

> _“Oh, how it feels so real_
> 
> _Lying here, with no one near_
> 
> _Only you, and you can hear me_
> 
> _When I say softly, slowly.”_

Lin grabs the deck of cards and throws them at the adjacent wall, his shoulders tensing with rage as he watches the cards rain onto the floor. The chorus swells as Lin crumples to the floor in defeat, finally allowing himself a moment to feel _everything._ He sniffles and sobs quietly into his hands, melting into the gentle hand holding onto his shoulder. Lin wipes his eyes and looks up at Daveed who rubs soothing circles into his back, smiling with pure sympathy and sorrow.

“Turn off the fucking jukebox,” Anthony hisses after the doctor finishes bandaging his wound. The doctor seems skittish as they stand up and press a few buttons until the jukebox powers down into a painful silence.

"I just don't get it. He was so determined to go home," Lin mumbles in defeat.

"Was he, though?" Daveed asks carefully, causing Lin to take a pause.

He suddenly remembers eating an omelette and Hamilton oversharing how he believes he deserves this as a punishment of some kind. That was all at the beginning — even before he met the cast. The signs were obvious from the start and Lin pointedly ignored them in favour of his own sanity and safety.

"He _wants_ to go home, but he doesn't think he _deserves_ it," Lin replies hoarsely. "He clearly has a lot of unresolved trauma. I mean, we could see it through his unpredictability with the powers."

"But he seems to have a better grasp on them," Anthony points out as the doctor leaves the room. "That's a good sign, right?"

Lin shakes his head. "I thought so, but now...I'm not so sure. He said something about feeling acceptance. I think he just decided that he's worthless and was only able to fool himself into thinking he had it all figured out."

“Shit, if only we could somehow get him to explode the way he did when he blew out the power,” Anthony grumbles while hopping off the far table and rubbing his arm tenderly. “Y’know, blow up this whole place so they can’t have any power over him or us anymore…”

Lin blinks owlishly at Anthony and stands up slowly. “Anthony, holy shit. You’re a genius.”

He smirks. “Tell me somethin’ I don’t know.” Pippa fondly rolls her eyes as Anthony plops down beside her.

“What are you plotting in that brain of yours, Lin,” Jon mumbles drowsily from the couch, his arm draped over his eyes.

Lin begins to pace, rubbing his chin in deep thought. It shockingly helps him clear his mind — _it’s no wonder Hamilton does it._ “I gotta see Hamilton before we leave. One last time.”

### °•°HAMILTON°•°

Hamilton does not so much as move or twitch a single muscle as the futureonean doctors poke and prod at him. He only begins rubbing his hands or squeezing his thumbnail into his wrist once they step away momentarily. Hamilton’s finger shovels his hangnail upon his left thumb and he continues to dig at it even when it feels wet with blood.

“Mr. Hamilton, please stop that. You’re hurting yourself,” a woman says in a chillingly cold tone. She holds his wrist and he falls stiff again, feeling drained. He had not realized how badly he was shaking until he stilled himself. She wipes his thumb and wraps it with an uncomfortably sticky patch that loops around his thumb before walking away. He examines the small wrapping, picking at it with his index finger and frowning at the peculiar texture. It is unlike the feeling of cloth. It feels hard and stiff like his bones and shines like his sweat-coated skin.

“Alright, I think that is enough for today. Let’s give Mr. Hamilton a moment to get some rest,” the woman who now has a name to the face — Lutece — says with a sense of conviction, her tone cold and analytical.

The many people in the room leave him be. He watches them through the large window showing the hallway outside of the door to his now _permanent_ residence. He gazes at his surroundings; at the very least, he can live in a world with advanced inventions, but sitting here without his loved ones feels far less...worth it.

 _‘It will be worth it, though,’_ Hamilton thinks with a resigned sigh. Everyone will remain safe under these pretenses. He was finally given his opportunity to repent for his sins, and so he sits within a sterile white room that be devoid of any and all life but his own miserable one.

Hamilton is unaware of the length of time that has passed whilst he sits and stares at nothing between the doctors leaving and Lin appearing outside the large window. Hamilton wordlessly blinks at the man who appears to be utterly exhausted.

“They let me come here to say goodbye. It took some serious self-restraint to be calm and not punch them,” Lin’s voice echoes throughout the room that Hamilton now resides within. _Hamilton must start considering this place as home if he is to keep any ounce of sanity._

Hamilton allows a sliver of a smile to crack through the twisted mask he wore for the doctors. “I can attest to that as I also desired so very much to scratch and claw my way out.”

“Why didn’t you?” Lin inquires innocently enough.

Hamilton sighs, lifting his shoulders half-heartedly before slouching with shame. “If I restrain them, I’ve not a clue what they would do to you, Jon, Pippa, Daveed, or Anthony…”

“Why do you care so much about what happens to us?” Lin’s voice sounds sharper, his knuckles visibly turning white as he holds his hands into first by his sides.

“You saved me and this is my way of repaying that debt,” Hamilton replies simply with a raised brow.

“I told you that you didn’t have to repay me,” Lin snaps. “In fact, I’m pretty sure the deal was for you to tell me facts about your world in exchange for my help since you were so adamant with repaying me somehow.”

“What do you wish to know?” Hamilton whispers.

Lin scoffs, rubbing his face and leaning against the far wall. “You’re a moron, you know that, right?”

Hamilton frowns but speaks not. He watches Lin go through a series of varying emotions before settling on disappointment. His hair be disheveled and his lips are pursed tightly in a thin line. “I wish you would try a bit harder.”

“You say that as if I am not utterly impoverished from exertion,” Hamilton bites back.

Lin sighs in defeat. "You can't just...give up."

"What else is there for me to do?" Hamilton replies with a shrug. "I am nothing…"

Lin opens his mouth to respond but visibly bites his tongue. He lifts a challenging brow. "You're right. You _are_ nothing."

Hamilton blinks in surprise. "What?"

"You will never amount to anything," Lin sneers, his tone eerily pantomime. Hamilton's jaw ticks, his eyes focused on the floor. "You know that you're only still remembered in my time because _I_ wrote a musical about you. Your legacy meant nothing. Your life meant nothing, so why bother fighting for it anyway, right?"

Hamilton snaps his head in Lin's direction, feeling his blood begin to boil. He bares his teeth but says nothing. Lin smirks, proud of himself and folds his arms with a raised brow. "You fell into complacency and never truly fought for what you believed in, didn't you?"

Hamilton feels his fingers twitch as Lin continues. "You benefited from slavery even if you were _suposedly_ against it." Hamilton stands up. "You cheated on your wife and left her alone to fend for herself."

"Enough of this—"

"You abandoned your children just like your father did to you." Hamilton blinks in dismay, stepping back and nearly collapsing at the revelation. Lin steps aside discreetly. "And you couldn't even save John Laurens. You dragged him along only to break his heart, leading to his inevitable demise."

Hamilton explodes — _and not in the figurative sense._ His anger expels into a localized shockwave of energy that shatters the glass separating himself from Lin. Loud sirens go off and Lin smiles more genuinely at the scene, no longer looking deceiving but rather jovially _proud._

"I knew that you had it in you," Lin says delicately. "You never wanted to give up. You were just scared. Look at yourself, Hamilton. You still have that spark of life in you."

Hamilton examines his hands, staring quite mesmerized at the glowing veins within his wrist. "You only intended to rile me up," Hamilton says breathlessly as epiphany strikes him.

"Bingo," Lin replies with a wink. "I didn't really mean what I said by the way. Just wanted to piss you off enough so you realize that you didn't wanna spend the rest of your life imprisoned."

Hamilton steps through the broken glass carefully, wincing as the shards crunch underneath his shoes. "Must you be so harsh in your methods?"

"Being kind and gentle wasn't necessarily working," Lin says with a shrug.

“You’ve never been kind and gentle with me,” Hamilton replies with a raised brow. “You were consistently irritating.” Lin suddenly throws a punch, knocking Hamilton nearly to the floor as he stumbles into the wall with a loud thud; Hamilton rubs his face in bewilderment. "What the _hell_ was that for?"

"You said I can punch you in hell after the world exploded. I felt like this was close enough," Lin replies cheekily. "Also, you deserve it for being so difficult. I mean, seriously — you are such an asshole, Alexander Hamilton."

Hamilton cannot help but smile fondly, rubbing his sore cheek and feeling his anger melt into a different form of energy. "I suppose you are correct. I deserved such." Hamilton looks up at the flashing lights and the siren going off. "We should probably vacate the premises."

"Yeah, probably," Lin says with a quick nod. He makes a move to theatrically gesture towards the door. "After you, Glowy-Ham."

"Call me that again and you will be the next thing I blast through the wall," Hamilton responds with a cocked brow.

"Noted."

They stride down the corridor, Lin leading the way. People run away from Hamilton as they walk with purpose; he feels powerful as they all shrink in his deep gaze and scatter about. When they open the door to a room, they meet up with the others. Hamilton jams a chair under the handle out of subconscious habit.

“We’re getting the hell out of here,” Lin announces as they all stand at attention upon their grand entrance.

“Are we about to blow shit up?” Anthony asks with a wide grin.

“You are way too excited about this,” Daveed says with great concern.

“We should make sure everyone has vacated the building before blowing anything up,” Jon suggests nervously.

“I have a feeling that’s already in progress as the emergency alarms are blaring,” Pippa adds sheepishly.

They all startle when the doorknob jiggles furiously.

“I wish we could just pop in front of the building,” Daveed bemoans.

Hamilton has a fleeting thought in this moment that causes him to react upon instinct. “Do you all have your belongings?” They nod, Jon lifting the old satchel from 1778 and his bag from their trip to Valley Forge. Hamilton turns and focuses heavily on this particular moment. Not on _then_ or the _future_ , but _right here and now_ — or rather, _outside and now._

A blue window opens and appears to be a large field facing the very facility they be in currently, watching people flee from the building. Everyone in the room silently leaps through the passageway and nearly topple over as they are pulled to the other side.

“Holy shit,” Anthony breathes out in astonishment as the passageway closes behind them just as the door in the room breaks open. “We’re still here?”

“So Hamilton can not only travel through time — arguably alternate dimensions — and can now teleport within the same plane of existence on top of all that?” Daveed sputters out in exasperation. He huffs and folds his arms. “Fine! That’s fine! Fuck logic!”

They surveil the premises in the distance, watching people stream out of doors akin to a flowing river. As the number of people trickle down and the crowds gather in a distant parking lot, Hamilton begins to focus his energy on the core of the building, closing his eyes and attaining the stance Lin had shown him previously in the past.

“I haven’t seen another person leave the building in six minutes,” Jon whispers. “Do you think they all got out safely?”

Before anyone can respond, Hamilton sends a localized shockwave of blue energy towards the building. It cuts through the glass and pushes everyone within its radius onto their bosoms as the shockwave retracts, leaving a loud crackling **_BANG_** before the building bursts into enormous flames.

Hamilton feels himself growing warmer as the flames in the near-distance lick the skies, ashy rain already sprinkling upon them alike to snow. The contrasting heat and visuals causes Hamilton to smile oddly before sitting up. The others groan in distinct pain, all sporting dark smudges and scratches upon their skin. Hamilton smiles sheepishly at them, realizing his mistake.

“We were standing rather close,” Hamilton mutters whilst habitually rubbing the blood from his nose away. “My apologies. I had not realized the explosion would be so grand.”

“Things blow up bigger, now,” Lin replies with a dry voice; he clears his throat with a hoarse wheeze.

“We should get out of here,” Pippa suggests as she rolls over to stand up. She helps Anthony stand, the poor man wincing and grabbing his wounded shoulder.

Hamilton sees Laurens in Anthony for the briefest moment but shakes the image away. He stands as well and aids the others in doing so. He dusts the ash off of his coat and turns to examine the damage he had caused. The crowd of people seem to also be standing sluggishly and he sighs in relief. He tries not to think on anyone who may not have made it with a turn of his head to face Lin.

“I wanna go home,” Jon whines in defeat.

Hamilton smiles. “That can be arranged.” He closes his eyes and tries to invision New York before opening a window. He frowns at the sight of it. “Wait, my apologies. That be _my_ New York,'' Hamilton says sheepishly as a carriage strolls by through the image. With a flick of the wrist, the passageway wrinkles like a disturbed puddle and he closes his eyes again. He remembers the park Jon took him to. The smell of the trees and flowers, and the warmth from the summer sun soaking in his skin. Hamilton thinks of himself and his newfound friends, right here and now, standing in that park.

“Woah,” Anthony whispers breathlessly.

Hamilton opens his eyes and is shocked to find them already standing in a new place. He looks around in befuddlement. “Where be the passageway? How are we—”

“The blue portal just engulfed us and then disappeared to show this,” Lin explains in complete awe. “How did you do that?”

Hamilton turns again and frowns disgustingly at the sight of a peculiar statue roughly ten metres away. Standing absurdly tall above all of them and onlooking the lone group of damaged travellers is a stone statue of none other than himself; if not for the eerie resemblance to himself, the large mount the statue stands on allows one to know who be the man upon the pedestal — **‘HAMILTON’** be engraved in it.

The statue of himself has his chin tilted up with pride and his right hand pinches his waistcoat as the other rests comfortably upon a thin podium, the knuckles curled loosely over what appears to be a book. Hamilton steps forward, staring owlishly at the statue that looks to be ten-or-so feet tall.

“That statue looks a lot like you,” Lin comments off-handedly. “The artist shockingly got your likeness down nearly to the T.”

“It even has your face wrinkles,” Daveed adds cheekily.

Hamilton huffs indignantly and turns away from the odd monument. Jon is lightly jogging back to them from nearby civilians — Hamilton had not noticed him leave during his trance upon the statue. "Those people over there said today is Monday June sixth, twenty-sixteen." Jon slows his stride and chuckles. "They also said a tourist was just arrested an hour ago for climbing the statue but that's besides the point — we’re back home!"

Daveed sighs with great relief, leaning against the Hamilton statue. “Oh, thank god.”

“Shit, they’re probably wondering where the hell we are back at the theatre!” Anthony abruptly declares with exasperation.

“Forget the theatre. We’re going to the hospital,” Pippa replies with a pointed look. “We have to get our story straight. Say we were in a car accident or something.”

“Do whatever it is you must do,” Hamilton says calmly. “I simply cannot thank you enough for all of the help you had provided me. I wish I can somehow repay you.”

“No need to,” Jon says, instantly engulfing Hamilton in a tight hug. Hamilton reciprocates slowly, smiling warmly as Jon pulls away. “All we want is for you to return home.”

Hamilton looks back to his statue and snorts. “Aye.”

He locks eyes with Daveed and the man approaches him, shaking his hand firmly. “Take care, Hamilton.”

“Please, you may call me Alexander after all we have been through,” Hamilton replies with a bright grin.

After they release the handshake, Hamilton turns at the feeling of Anthony's hand slapping his shoulder. "So, what now? You're gonna go home?"

Hamilton smiles, firmly grabbing Anthony's forearm and nodding. "Aye. I believe so." Hamilton pulls away wearily. "How will I know you will remain safe?"

"You won't," Pippa affirms delicately, causing Hamilton to spin around and face her. "I suppose we just have to trust each other," she adds with a warm smile.

Hamilton boldly holds out his hand and shakes hers as if she be a fellow soldier. "You are a remarkable young woman and I will miss you dearly."

Pippa's reserved smile bursts into a grin. They release the handshake and Hamilton turns towards Lin.

Lin digs the tip of his shoe into the grass and his lips tug into a crooked grin. "You're an alright guy, Hamilton."

Hamilton fondly rolls his eyes. "You are not quite so bad yourself." Hamilton's expression wipes into one of vacancy. "However, your play is a mistake and I will never forgive you for writing such a monstrosity." Hamilton allows a smile to crack through his mask and Lin breathes out a relieved chuckle, knowing Hamilton is only being playful with him.

They reach out at the same time for a handshake and Hamilton grins at the feeling of Lin's warm hand gripping his own fiercely. "I would say 'see ya later' to avoid saying goodbye, but...I mean no offense when I say that I hope to god I never see you again after this."

Hamilton bellows out a deep laugh. "Ah, the feeling is mutual."

"So this is really it," Anthony mumbled as Hamilton and Lin cease their handshake. "You're going home and never coming back?"

Hamilton looks to Anthony and sighs. "This be what we were after, correct? For you to return home and for me to do the same?"

"Yeah, I know. I just...I'm actually gonna miss you," Anthony replies solemnly.

"If you find yourself missing my presence, you may come to visit my statue," Hamilton jests with a playful grin, waving a thumb over his shoulder towards the enormous statue of himself.

"God, try not to let that get to your head," Daveed laughs, bending over as his eyes scrunch in amusement.

Hamilton winks at him. "It already has, sir."

The others laugh boisterously at Hamilton's cockiness, lighting the sombre mood of their final farewell. Hamilton's breath catches in his throat when he realizes that this truly be it. He is not going to be a prisoner — _he is a free man._

He near-startles as Jon taps his shoulder to capture his attention. He shoves his arm into his bag and pulls out John Laurens' sketchbook from Valley Forge. "Before you go, I thought you would want to take this with you."

Hamilton holds the tethered leatherbound book and examines it with wide eyes. He runs his fingers upon the thick cover before flickering his gaze to Lin. "I want you to have this," Hamilton says firmly, holding out the sketchbook towards Lin.

"I—me?" Lin gapes at the worn brown book handed to him, holding it like a piece of fine porcelain. "Why me? What am I supposed to do with this?"

Hamilton grins. "Do what you wish with it. Personally, I believe John's artwork should be shared with the world, but I will understand if you keep it to yourself." Hamilton worries his bottom lip. "I had already given him my farewells and I hope to move onwards. T’is what he would desire for me, I think."

"Absolutely," Lin replies softly; he stares a bit longer at the book before meeting Hamilton's gentle gaze. "Thanks."

Hamilton backs up a few paces away from the group huddled by the statue of himself. He turns around, briefly looking over his shoulder at them as he feels his insides flip and turn. He loathes that he became attached to these people. "Goodbye, my friends."

They wave collectively as a group. Lin holds the book close to his chest and salutes playfully with two fingers. "So long, partner."

Jon elbows Lin in the side immediately after the preposterously absurd man spoke his farewell. Hamilton cannot resist the genuine grin splitting his face, feeling contendely fond of this odd collection of people.

Hamilton turns around and closes his eyes, thinking of nothing but his wife — his children — Washington — his _home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...........yeah. That's pretty much it. This was the big finale - I hope it was to your liking. Just an epilogue is next and then the fic is officially done. I hope it was okay?? aha ^^;
> 
> The opening flashback takes place in early October 1777, a few days after The Battle of Germantown (2 months after Hamilton and Laurens meet.). Figured I would put in the Lams first kiss. I wrote it ages ago and could not find a good spot for it until now, so yay!
> 
> I will be working on my next fic! It will be ~coming soon!~ It will take place within this Hamilton fanfic multi-verse as a sort of spin-off to this fic. Stay tuned for that!
> 
> Thanks, everyone! See you very soon with the epilogue!


	20. ACT V - Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end is nigh...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since September 2020, this fic has been at my utmost attention. I cannot thank all of you enough for the amazing comments as well as bookmarks, kudos, shares, etc. Seriously I just....Thank you.
> 
> Here is the shortest chapter yet. You know the drill. No chapter-length consistency...and an update 2 days after the previous chapter? wow.

## On Slavery by Anonymous

> _Within this document lays 87 essays from multiple anonymous highly educated men —_ _& in congress — arguing against the cruel natures of slavery — with a liberated country, we cannot lay with the apparatus we have won and simply ignore this vile behaviour to mankind akin to the act of slavery. As such, we have collaborated in hope of reaching to you, the people of these blessed United States of America, and ask of you to share mercy and empathy for our fallen men, women, and children._
> 
> _We ask for your patience and consideration and to not let selfishness befall to you as you read these words upon the page — with mine eyes as to yrs, we most humbly present the case of Abolishing slavery in all of these United States of America[…]_
> 
> _[cont’d…]_

_24th of November, 1795_

* * *

Lin shoots up, gasping for breath as his heart hammers within his chest. His gasping melts into low sobs as he curls into himself and cries quietly into his hands. He instantly melts into the warm touch of a gentle hand rubbing up and down his back soothingly.

“Shh, you’re awake. It was only a dream, honey,” Vanessa whispers softly.

“It wasn’t, though. It was real—” Lin shudders and pulls away from her, wiping his eyes and sniffling to rid himself of tears.

Vanessa lowers her gaze to the bedsheets contemplatively, her hand lowering to rest upon the cotton sheets. “Your therapist said it was only gonna get worse before it gets better. You’re safe now, though. No longer there in that car…”

Lin sighs and sadly looks over his shoulder at his wonderful wife. He smiles at her efforts to comfort him. “I’ll go get some water. Go back to sleep.”

Vanessa frowns but Lin kisses her quickly before she can object. She nods slowly as they part. “Okay, sweetheart. Let me know if you need anything.”

Lin tries to ignore the image of his hand stabbing into a man’s back as he feigns a smile and slides off of the bed. He retreats into his office and locks the door behind him. He instantly pulls out the unlabeled storage box from the closet and rifles through the printer papers filled with scrawly 18th-century handwriting to retrieve the old leatherbound book.

Lin leans back against the wall, pulling his legs up to rest the sketchbook on his thighs as he opens it carefully. He smiles at the relaxing artwork portraying birds, flowers, and landscapes. He smiles at the images of the men at work and lingers on the drawing of a smiling young Washington.

Lin hesitates on the first drawing of a young man biting the tip of his quill in thought, knowing it is Hamilton. He goes through these drawings slowly, noting how these drawings have the most intricate details out of them all — as if the artist took more time and effort to perfect them. He smiles, knowing how fond John and Alexander were of each other; he lingers on a few drawings where Hamilton is peacefully asleep. Even Lin has never seen the man look so peaceful while sleeping.

He blinks in surprise as he makes it farther into the book than he has before. He Had not looked at this since their trip to Valley Forge, choosing to hide it and the piles of writings Hamilton left in his office the moment he returned home. The drawing is of Hamilton sleeping peacefully yet again, but his head is resting on the shoulder of John Laurens. Laurens’s head is tilted downward as he looks up into Lin’s eyes — he quickly realizes this is a drawing of a reflection in a mirror. The very same sketchbook in Lin’s hand is laying on John’s lap in the sketch and his eyebrows are scrunched with concentration as he looks forward.

This is the most accurate drawing of John Laurens that Lin has ever seen. All of the other paintings combined cannot compete with this simple ink sketch. Laurens appears to be drawing with a pencil in the drawing itself — _maybe he inked it later on?_

Lin stares at this drawing for a long time before pulling out his cell phone to take a careful picture of it. He sends it in _the group chat_ without any comments; Jon immediately sees the message.

Lin shuts off his screen but startles when his phone starts to buzz in his hand. He instantly answers it in surprise with a quiet, “hello?”

“You can’t sleep, either?” is all Jon says on the other line.

Lin exhales deeply and nods. He pinches the bridge of his nose when he realizes that he just nodded on a phone call. “Yeah. I had a shitty dream.”

“I hope to god your nose doesn't start bleeding,” Jon replies lightly.

Lin rolls his eyes with a deep fondness tugging at his heart. “Ha. Nice one. I’ll be sure to let you know if I start glowing as well.”

There is a long pause as they let out hollow laughter. They sound tired and worn and Lin is grateful to not feel alone right now but also hates that his friends are struggling, too.

“I can hear you thinking,” Jon quips suddenly, cutting off Lin’s endless train of thoughts. “Stop that.”

“I just—”

“It’s still not your fault, Lin,” Jon says firmly. Lin’s breath hitches and he covers his mouth desperately, hoping Jon didn’t hear his sharp intake of breath. _Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t you fucking cry—_

“Lin, breathe with me,” Jon whispers and Lin nods again, lowering his hand and breathing with Jon’s gentle counting over the phone.

They do this for a while and Lin looks down at the sketchbook sitting haphazardly on his lap as his breathing finally normalizes itself. “What should I do with this?”

“Nothing for now. We can figure out what to do with the sketchbook after the Tony’s.” Jon, bless his heart, somehow knows exactly what Lin is talking about — he wagers it must be because of the image he sent in the group chat. “That drawing was new. I don’t remember seeing it when he was flipping through them at Valley Forge.”

“Yeah, me neither. This is the first time I decided to actually look at it since he—” Lin ends his sentence abruptly.

Jon hums in understanding. “I barely knew the guy and I miss him so much.”

Lin squeezes his eyes shut and nods slowly. “Me too.”

“Do you think he’s kicking ass in his time now that he knows how his future turns out in our timeline?”

Lin chuckles. “Oh, for sure. I hope he uses his insane powers to scare people into abolishing slavery.”

Jon hums lightly. “Knowing him, he would be too stubborn and try to do it the old-fashioned way — with only his words.”

Lin smiles genuinely, now, and flickers his gaze back to the drawing. He curls his fingers around the book protectively. “What do you think happened to John Laurens?”

Lin can picture the furrow in Jon’s brow in his response. “What do you mean?”

“The one we left behind. The one Hamilton got to say goodbye to,” Lin elucidates carefully. He studies the features of the Laurens in the drawing and resists the urge to trace his finger along the lines. “What do you think happened to him after we left?”

“If what Hamilton told him was the right thing, I would only hope that he manages to survive the war, somehow,” Jon replies delicately. “I hope we didn’t traumatize him.”

“He was probably already traumatized when we met him,” Lin quips stoically. “But yeah, same here. I hope he didn’t, like, end up in an asylum or something because he told people what he saw.”

“He’s a smart guy. I’m sure he kept it to himself,” Jon replies. “God, I hope so, at least.”

Lin takes a moment to think of his next words. “I hope John and Alexander are doing alright. I wish there was a way for us to know for sure.”

“Unfortunately, we just have to trust that they’ll be fine…” _Silence._ “...and that we’ll be fine, too.”

Lin hums in acknowledgement but doesn’t reply. He worries his lip between his teeth and softly thunks his head against the wall. “I can’t believe we’re performing at the Tony’s tomorrow and all I can think about is Alexander Hamilton and John Laurens.”

“I can’t believe Anthony insisted on performing,” Jon adds with a breathy laugh that barely sounded like one. “I mean, we only managed one rehearsal yesterday since Anthony was out of commission all week. His shoulder clearly still bothers him.”

“He’s stubborn,” Lin replies with a fond grin. “Everyone will understand if he takes it easy. Fuck, the whole world probably knows about our ‘ _car accident,’_ now.”

Jon chuckles darkly. “I can’t believe people believed that story when it was flimsy as hell.”

Lin shrugs. “What else could it have been? It’s not like it’s possible to have a portal-hopping Alexander Hamilton by our side, a government conspiracy, and Anthony getting shot with an eighteenth-century pistol by mistake.”

“I hate that I can’t talk about what happened with anyone. Feels weird to lie to my therapist,” Jon says candidly.

“That’s why we have the group chat,” Lin replies lowly. “You can talk with me or the others about it whenever you need to.”

“Same goes to you as well,” Jon says sweetly. There is a strange pause before Jon whispers, “I hate that I have to go back to working on Mindhunter. I thought coming back for the Tony’s would be a breeze, but now the thought of being so far from you guys...terrifies me.”

“You can call me every night, even if it is ass-oh-clock in the morning for me,” Lin replies. “Who knows, maybe one day we will start believing the car accident story ourselves and be able to move on with our lives.”

Jon hums indistinctly over the phone and Lin feels his phone beep, indicating another call. He frowns and looks at the contact.

**Anthony is starting a video call on ‘Time Travelling-Ham’.**

“Should we pick that up?” Jon asks suddenly, nearly startling Lin. He almost forgot he was on the phone already for a moment.

“Yeah,” Lin says before promptly hanging up on Jon and joining Anthony’s call on the group chat.

Anthony’s face pops up on the screen. He’s lit by streetlights and the sounds of cars driving by behind him are instantly heard over the speaker. “Ant, what’s up? Where are you?”

“I couldn’t sleep so I went on a walk,” Anthony mumbles into his headphone mic, his eyes shifting and flickering around at something behind his phone before looking back at Lin. Jon joins the call — he is laying in bed with a glowing lamp beside him. Nobody comments on the fact that he is tucked into the guest bedroom in his apartment.

“Hey, I guess all of us couldn’t sleep, huh?” Jon says with a strange smile. Lin notices his eyes are red-rimmed. He had not noticed Jon was crying before their call — he _definitely_ wasn’t crying _during_ the call, so it had to be before.

Lin closes the sketchbook and places it gently inside the box before putting the lid on and readjusting his phone to have him properly on camera. “Do you mind if I join you on that walk? I feel very...skittish right now.” Lin chews the inside of his cheek.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll go hop on the subway,” Anthony replies with a small grin. “Where should we meet?”

Jon shuffles and walks out of the bedroom. “Can we meet at central park? At the statue?”

Anthony and Lin wordlessly nod in understanding. “See you guys soon,” Anthony says before exiting the call. Lin says goodbye and leaves the call as well. He types a quick message in the chat in case Daveed and Pippa are secretly awake and sends where they're meeting up before pocketing his phone and leaving his office.

The trip is a blur of racing thoughts. Before Lin knows it, he is nearly bumping into Anthony on the sidewalk and smiles sheepishly. Anthony pulls his headphones out and smiles tiredly at Lin. They do not exchange any words as they walk towards the statue.

Lin smiles widely when he sees Daveed and Pippa leaning against the statue and they wave Lin and Anthony over. They hug quietly and then look at the statue darkened by the nighttime shadows and hazily lit by the moon like a dream. Jon shows up not long after and they all stand together in silence, watching the statue stand starkly still as if it is about to come to life and start yelling at Lin about the play.

“I hope he’s doing alright,” Pippa whispers after a long time.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Daveed replies with a gentle arm wrapping protectively around Pippa’s shoulders. She melts into the hold and the others all cling together, needing the support.

“It’s hard to see the worry in Jazzy’s eyes and not being able to tell her what’s really bothering me,” Anthony admits suddenly, causing the others to flicker their gazes to him.

“I know the feeling. I woke up from a nightmare and Vanessa just….” Lin sighs, rubbing his face tiredly. “I love her and I know she means well, but she just...doesn’t get it. I wish I could tell her the truth.”

“What did you dream about?” Jon whispers cautiously, leaning over with his hands tucked into his pockets.

“That Queen’s Ranger…” Lin shivers and then he is instantly engulfed by his friends, surrounding him with their warmth and he allows himself to cry. He rests his head on Pippa’s shoulder and feels the others squeeze him comfortingly from all around and he cannot help but smile gratefully for such amazing friends. “I think it’s ‘cause today was so hard at rehearsals. Everyone asking questions...Leslie wondering about Alex and I just—” Lin chokes out a sudden sob and shakes his head roughly.

“We’re gonna kick ass tomorrow,” Anthony declares. “And then we will celebrate with a vacation.”

They all chuckle and slowly pull apart to give Lin some space. He wipes his eyes and gives a watery grin towards them. “A vacation is not possible,” Lin mutters, looking up at the statue. “But maybe a break from Hamilton will help clear my head a bit…”

They all nod in silent understanding before returning their attention to the Hamilton statue. Lin closes his eyes and can imagine a blue glow and a copper-haired man appearing in front of him, smiling and shaking his hand.

* * *

“Out of sixteen nominations, Hamilton brings home eleven Tony’s on Sunday,” the anchor on the television announces in a monotone. “Even after the tragic car accident last weekend with a few of the cast members, all survived with minor injuries and were able to make it to the show and _‘blow us all away’.”_ The anchor adds as a photo of the cast performing that night appears beside her head on the screen.

The woman watching the news in the coffee shop smiles around her mug. She folds the newspaper labelled with the date: **_Friday, June 17th, 2016._** The woman takes another sip before placing the mug on the table.

“Lin-Manuel Miranda confirmed on Thursday morning that he would leave the cast of ‘Hamilton’ on July 9th and be succeeded by his longtime alternate, Javier Muñoz.” The news anchor continues, the voice almost melting into the background hum of the bustling coffee shop.

The woman finishes her coffee and stands up to bring it to the bussing tray, keeping her eyes on the television screen overhanging above the tables in the corner.

“He stated that he was leaving because, quote, _‘I have other opportunities that are going to need my mental real-estate,’_ end quote.”

With that, the woman leaves the coffee shop, discarding the newspaper in the recycling bin on her way out. Tucked into the newspaper is a laminated government badge that simply has her ID photo and name, **_Doctor Rosalind Lutece._**

* * *

_Thursday, June 16th, 2016_

> _Lin-Manuel Miranda confirmed on Thursday morning that he would leave the cast of “Hamilton” on July 9th and be succeeded by his longtime alternate, Javier Muñoz._
> 
> _Mr. Miranda said he would turn his attention to other projects, including finishing work on the score and songs for “Moana,” an animated Disney film; completing an album of “Hamilton” covers and “Hamilton-inspired” songs called “The Hamilton Mixtape”; and preparing to begin rehearsals for a live-action sequel to “Mary Poppins,” which he will star in alongside Emily Blunt._
> 
> _“I’m leaving because I have other opportunities that are going to need my mental real-estate,” he said…_
> 
> || _By Michael Paulson, New York Times_ ||

**~THE END~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it...
> 
> I figured I would not include too much of what is happening to Hamilton as most of the story focused on him anyway, and it is kinda fun to leave *some* things up to interpretation. that opening should give you an inkling of what he's up to back in his own time ;p
> 
> Also, I can't believe I totally forgot to share the Hamilton statue from the last chapter (and this chapter)! It is my favourite Hamilton statue. Here is a link to that:  
> https://www.nycgovparks.org/parks/central-park/monuments/662  
> https://www.nycgovparks.org/common_images/monuments/1645.jpg
> 
> “What do you think happened to John Laurens?” Lin asks...as do yall, most likely, I hope...because there will be an actual answer to that! I am proud to announce that the next installment to this insane series will be a spinoff based on what happened to the John Laurens we met in chapters 13-17! Keep an eye out for that. I should be releasing it soon! I hope to get the first few chapters pre-written so it might be about a month until y'all see anything. If you subscribe to the series this current fic is a part of, you should get an email update on that fic being posted if anyone is interested....  
> I just couldn't let this go and I had this plot bunny floating in my head for ~months~ and I have been working really hard on it on the side of writing this fic!
> 
> I cannot believe I did it. I wrote this entire book and pretty much followed my bare-bones outline for the most part! Seriously, just...ahhgsdjfbd Thank you!
> 
> A BIG shoutout to everyone on the Revolutionary Junkies Discord Server. Everyone on there is so amazing (and anyone here is totally welcome to join!)  
> https://discord.gg/p7aSpqE9Ge


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